


Origins

by Higuchimon, SilvorMoon



Series: Order of the Outcasts [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 55,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higuchimon/pseuds/Higuchimon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilvorMoon/pseuds/SilvorMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bard.  A priestess.  A mage.  A druid.  A gladiator. A ranger.  A man of mystery.  A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together.  And thus a legend begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into The Underground

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 1: Into The Underground  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,542||story: 2,542  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation. Also, there's a reason I'm using 'Ryouga' and 'Rio' as opposed to 'Nasch' and 'Merag'. That will come into play in the sequel. There will also be pairings in the future, of the male x male, female x male, and female x female types.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage-knight. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

“You expect me to believe this is it?” Alit folded his arms over his chest and stared at the vine and moss covered entryway half-hidden in the embrace of a small rise that didn’t quite deserve the name of a hill. “We are being paid to get back this amazing wonderful magical artifact from these extremely skilled thieves and you think they’re hiding out _here_?” 

The blond ranger shot a cool look toward him, one lip curled with disdain. “Are you questioning my skills?” One graceful elven eyebrow lifted, as if he could not believe someone would do that. 

“Yes.” The ex-gladiator didn’t so much as blink at Mizael’s reaction. “If they’re as skilled as this guy says they are, then why are they hiding _here_?” He waved one hand abruptly toward the so-called hideout. “Shouldn’t they be in some kind of a fortress? Or in the city?” 

“I followed them here when they first stole the treasure.” Their guide didn’t take his eyes off the opening for a moment. “There are traps inside, designed to keep anyone from getting to their inner lair with all of their body parts intact.” Something that could’ve been a hint of amusement laced through his words. 

Sea-blue eyes contemplated the situation before them before the putative leader of the group spoke a single sentence. “We go inside.” 

Silence fell for the first few seconds before Alit shook his head. “What kind of traps are you talking about, Vector?” 

The guide shrugged, a quick ripple of motion across his shoulders. “I didn’t get very far before I decided it was better to get more talented help.” 

“The sooner we get this done, the better.” A quiet, determined nod accompanied the young priestess’s words as she began to shift forward. 

Before she could take more than a few steps, a hand closed itself around her shoulder. “Let me check to make certain there aren’t any booby-traps out here, Rio.” 

Rio stepped backwards at once as the young man next to her moved upward, taking each step with caution. He waved the others back as well, with only the ranger Mizael and the bard Ryouga paying attention right away. 

“Don’t get in his way.” Ryouga shot a look at the others. “He knows what he’s doing.” 

Alit rolled his eyes but took another step back. The last of the seven, a tall burly man whose features gave an impression of having been halfway carved and halfway smushed together by someone who had only the vaguest thoughts on what a human face should look like, didn’t move at all. He was too busy looking more intently at the trees and bushes all around them. 

“Gilag?” Alit started to reach for his friend’s shoulder, only for the other to move forward. His thick fingers moved in a pattern Alit recognized from having seen more than once over the last few months and he froze where he stood. “Gilag?” The second speaking of the name held more than the curiosity of the first. Now Alit worried what his druid friend had seen that the rest of them, even the supposed skilled fighter-mage Durbe, hadn’t. 

Without saying a word, Gilag reached up to one trailing vine, took firm hold of it, and yanked it down and away from everyone else. The other six skipped back, some –Alit in particular- with the kind of language on their lips that many mothers would’ve threatened to wash their children’s mouths out with soap had they heard. 

In the same moment, half a dozen sharp-edged darts flew from the same tree, zooming right where the group had stood only moments earlier. Silence reigned for a few breaths, before Vector carefully moved over to find where the darts had plowed into a tree. 

“These are poisoned,” he announced after staring at them for nearly a solid minute. “I’m not sure what kind it is, but there is something smeared on them.” 

“We can worry about that later.” Ryouga kept the bulk of his attention on the doorway before them. “We have other things to do right now. Durbe?” 

The mage-fighter nodded, turning his attention back to his original efforts. He did glance for a moment at Gilag, questions dancing through his eyes, but said nothing. Instead, he started working a spell of his own, searching for any other traps or troubles their enemies could’ve set to delay them, or worse. 

“There’s nothing else here,” he said at last, having surveyed the territory with eyes both magical and mundane. “We can go in safely.” 

Alit snorted briefly. “We’ve already had poison darts being kind of thrown at us. What are they going to have in there?” 

“Whatever it is, we’re going to get through it.” Ryouga stepped forward, taking each movement with the kind of skill that said he knew how to use the rapier at his side as well as he did the lute on his back. 

One by one they crossed the short stretch of grass that led to the doorway. None of them relaxed; relaxing going into the enemy stronghold, no matter how unlikely such a stronghold was, would be asking to die, or worse. Each one of them knew intimately there were fates far worse than death. 

Past the entrance loomed a room, cool and dark, with faint sounds as of water trickling down the packed earth walls. Underneath their feet large flagstones stretched out, and torches hung from the walls, some guttering and low, others bright and flaming. 

Mizael sniffed, nose wrinkling. “Don’t they ever wash around here? This place reeks of unwashed humans.” 

Alit turned to stare at the elf, shaking his head a fraction. “Did you actually just say that?” 

“And if I did?” Mizael barely gave the ex-gladiator a glance, still looking around the entryway itself. “It’s only the truth.” 

Ryouga ignored them both to look at Vector, the only one of them who had ever been here before. “Which way do we go?” 

The guide jerked his head toward the farther wall. “There’s another room down that way. You’ll see why I stopped once we get there.” 

Accompanied by Alit’s mutterings and Mizael’s murmurs of displeasure, the group followed Vector into the darker regions. The farther they went, the fewer torches they saw, until they spied a slightly darker shadow that reminded one of a doorway. No torches at all adorned the walls that way, and the door seemed more of a suggestion than anything else. 

“Are you sure this is the way to go?” Rio wanted to know, eyeing Vector. 

“This is the way that I came when I was here.” Vector gestured to what lay ahead of them. “This is the only way out of here that I could find.” 

“If there are other ways, we could’ve found them.” Durbe suggested, glancing back over his shoulder. “Enough of us know enough different magics.” 

Vector’s teeth clenched for a moment, but he said nothing contrary, only motioned again to the way before them. “This is what I know. If you want to waste time, go right ahead. Be my guest.” 

Ryouga, Durbe, and Rio exchanged quick glances of their own, while Alit shrugged and started for the door. 

“Let’s just get this over with.” He liked the idea of getting paid for this, but even more, he liked the idea of actually doing something, instead of standing around talking about what they might possibly do. 

Gilag sighed for a moment, casting his eyes upward in a silent prayer before he followed. He didn’t like being down here underneath the earth instead of outside in the clean air and growing life, but whether he liked it or not, this was necessary. 

No sooner had all seven of them crossed into whatever lay beyond, a thick slab of rock slammed down where the doorway had been, and brilliant light burst out all around them, shining from the floor, ceiling, and walls. Mizael said a word in his native language that none of them understood, but everyone grasped the meaning of just by his tone. 

“Yeah, what he said,” Alit muttered, looking around, hands clenched into tight fists. “Someone around here has a lousy sense of humor.” He rubbed at his eyes with one hand as they adjusted, trying to see what was around them. 

Instead of the soft earth and rocks of the previous room, metal gleamed all around them, the work of civilized hands. No torches or lanterns lit the way, nor were they needed. The light took care of it all. 

Soft whuff-whuffs swished somewhere ahead of them, on the other side of the narrow corridor they found themselves in. No one needed to talk about moving now; there wasn’t anywhere else they could go. 

“Vector.” Durbe made the name a question as they walked. “How did you get out of here?” 

Vector shook his head. “The same way we just got in. That didn’t happen when I was here before.” He sounded more than a little put out about that as well. 

Durbe cast a glance at Ryouga and Rio, but there was no time to question anything, as the short passage widened in front of them, revealing even more metallic walls and light reflecting all around them. 

Now they could see what caused the swishing sounds. From the ceiling and walls extended oversized scythes, the edge of the blades gleaming in the magical light, moving back and forth over a large, deep pit. Alit moved closer to the edge of it, peering downward before he stepped away from it. 

“Spikes. Thick ones, too, and sharp. Anyone falls down there, they’re going to die.” He reported, focusing on the moving scythes again. He tried to see what could lie beyond them, but the light and the continual swish and slice of the blades made that difficult. No matter how he squinted, he couldn’t make out much more than a vague shape that could’ve been anything from a torch to a pole to a very thin tree. 

“Someone has to get across these.” Durbe declared. “If this is the path they use to their innermost lair, then there has to be a way through.” 

“So where is it?” Mizael cocked one eyebrow, examining the area with his own sharp eyes. He answered his own question a moment later. “There! There’s some sort of lever on the far side.” Apparently elven eyes saw more clearly than humans. Alit decided to ignore that for now. 

Ryouga glanced at them all. “Any volunteers?” His gaze flicked past Vector briefly, who didn’t even look at him. 

Alit stepped forward, rolling his shoulders, a hint of a grin on his lips. “If I may have the honor?” It wasn’t a question, not really. 

Gilag set a hand on his shoulder before he got any closer. “Ponta could make it across there.” 

“Probably could, but I want to.” Alit eyed the display before them. “This isn’t so bad.” 

“Did you have a preference for where we should send any of your remains? Assuming we could collect enough of you for any burial rites,” Mizael asked, one lip twitching upward. 

“Sure. Send them home to Emperor Leonius in Spartan City.” Alit flashed a smirk before he crouched down and leaped forward with all of his strength. 

* * *

“Whoa, there are people there!” Coyote prodded at the reflection in the magical mirror. Was he really seeing what he thought he saw or was it just some kind of illusion? “I didn’t think anyone was really going to come.” A smile slashed across his lips and he laughed. “Wonder how long it’ll take for them to get squished.” It would happen. No one could get through all of the traps that they’d set. And even if _somehow_ they managed –which they wouldn’t-, the three of them had their final trick to play on them, the one that no one could beat, no matter how hard they tried. 

Jackal lounged on his favored couch, sharpening one of his daggers until it could cut the wind. “Not soon enough. How’d they get by the first trap, anyway?” 

“I dunno, I wasn’t looking.” Coyote shrugged, still staring into the mirror. He almost wished there could be a way to show past events on it, but the spell only reflected what was going on in the chosen areas, not what had happened before. Maybe they should look into setting one of the spells on the outside of the lair in case another batch of intruders turned up before they abandoned the area. 

Both of them turned at the sound of firm footsteps as the third of their group entered the chamber. The only reason Wolf’s steps sounded in the first place was because he wanted them to know he was there. Otherwise one would have had better luck seeing the wind. 

“One of them knows something of nature magic, I believe. He detected the dart trap and destroyed it.” Wolf said, taking his place in his usual ornate chair, a magnificent creation woven of vines and treeroots. He clarified a little more at his companions’ curious looks. “I was watching from outside. They never even saw me.” 

“Of course they didn’t.” Jackal rolled his eyes at the very thought of anyone being able to detect Wolf when he didn’t want to be. Like his namesake, he was a part of the woods around them. That was why their lair was here, and not in some far-off city. Not to mention that it was much easier to guess if someone was there for them in particular out here than in a crowded city street. “So, when are we going to send out the ransom demand?” That would have to be done sooner or later. He could just begin to imagine what it would be like to have all the money they wanted delivered to them. And he didn’t doubt at all that it would be. Wolf said it would, and his plans always worked. 

Wolf said nothing right away, his fingers steepled under his chin. Jackal and Coyote watched, knowing that their leader knew far more about running this kind of scheme than either of them did. They trusted him with their lives; that was their strength and always had been. 

“Let’s see how far they can get.” Wolf spoke at last, lips curving upward into a wicked smirk. “I doubt it will be very far, but they interest me. Don Thousand wouldn’t have sent them if they were _complete_ incompetents.” 

Coyote tilted his head back and laughed. Oh, he loved the way that his leader thought. That was why Wolf _was_ the leader in the first place. He always had the best ideas. “You’re right, of course. And it should be funny to watch them anyway.” 

“Right.” Wolf smiled, the tips of his teeth gleaming in the light that glowed around them. They’d all gone too far and done too much to give up entertaining themselves with whatever offered itself as amusement, and the efforts of this group of fools who thought they could get through the traps set up specifically to interfere with people trying to come get their precious treasure would be worth waiting to see. “Let’s enjoy the show.” 

**To Be Continued**


	2. Over the Spikes, On The Scythes

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 2: Over the Spikes, On The Scythes  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,582||story: 5,124  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

It was almost, but not quite, like being back in the arena. There wasn’t an appreciative crowd cheering his every move. There were people watching him, though. Alit always knew when people watched him. He might not know why or where they were, but he knew when they were _there_. 

His opponent wasn’t another warrior, strong and armed and ready to take him out with a swing of a blade or ax or whatever weapon they wielded. Instead, he fought gravity. 

But there were blades and if he made the wrong move, they would slice into him as easily as those once wielded by the gladiators he fought against would have. 

Like and not like, and the goal was the same: to survive. The reward wouldn’t be wealth or wine with his love, but survival and moving onward and perhaps at the end of it all some money. Different enough that he didn’t forget where he was, alike enough that he could let himself slip back there, just a fraction. 

His feet landed on the first of the swinging scythes and he wrapped one hand around the handle, balancing himself. He focused on what he was doing, not on the feel of eyes on him. Never, ever watch the audience; that was one of the first rules of being a gladiator, one that he’d learned early on. While he needed to amuse them to earn their favor, he couldn’t concentrate on them, or he’d miss something important. 

It hadn’t been any easier for him when he and Leonius grew closer to one another. He’d wanted so much to wave and grin at the emperor. Only when they had sparred against one another could he take the chance. 

Alit refused to admit, even to himself, how much he missed those days. Even now he could feel the heat of the sun on his shoulders, the grind of sand underneath his feet, the quick intake of air as he moved to defend himself against a shining blade. 

He wanted to go home. Gods, how much he wanted to go home. 

He liked Gilag well enough; the druid had given him a place to live and someone to talk to and someone he could fight against who didn’t go down with the first solid blow, but he wasn’t _home_. Not like the city was. Not like the warmth of his emperor’s eyes was home. 

But until the day the truth was discovered, he couldn’t set foot anywhere that the Emperor Leonius claimed territory. And he had no idea of if, or when, that would ever happen. 

_When. Remember that. When. Not if._ Leonius was working to find the truth. Alit could never, ever let himself think otherwise. Not that dark thoughts hadn’t done their best to slide into his heart and mind, to remind him that Leonius was royalty and he wasn’t. That he was only a bare step up from a slave and there were those who would say he wasn’t even that step. 

What could he give Leonius that a hundred, a thousand others couldn’t? So many could give him more. 

Alit grit his teeth together and brought his attention fully to what he needed to focus on now, working his way across these scythes. If he slipped, he died, and Alit swore to himself he wouldn’t die here and he wouldn’t die now, no matter what. 

The scythes had a rhythm to them, he realized, as he swung back and forth, still clinging to that first one. If he could catch the rhythm, make it his own, just like with a battle in the arena, then he could win this. He grinned, little more than a twisting of his lips, and prepared to do battle. 

* * *

“What is he doing?” Mizael frowned, staring at the muscled human as he stood easily on the scythe’s swinging blade. Ever since Alit leaped forward, the same question rung through nearly all of their minds, spoken or not. 

“Crossing over there.” Gilag had his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Alit. 

“It looks more to me as if he’s just standing there.” The elven ranger wondered if he could make the jump himself. He had many skills of his own, but the way Alit flitted over there almost made it look as if he could fly. 

The words had scarcely left Mizael’s lips before Alit crouched down and leaped toward one of the other scythes, landing on it just as he had the first one, hand gripping for balance, and taking careful moments to watch for another one to leap to. 

“He’s good.” Durbe nodded slightly as they watched the other move forward leap by leap. There was no such thing as grudging respect in his tone; he meant every word of it. “He was a gladiator?” 

Gilag nodded; it wasn’t surprising that Durbe wasn’t certain. The group had scarcely known one another a handful of days, and most of the time they’d spent traveling instead of talking to one another. 

Gilag also chose not to reveal what he knew of Alit’s past; let the other tell of that when he chose to. It wasn’t his to talk about. 

“So what do we do if he falls?” Vector asked, watching the other’s squirrel-like leaps and jumps avidly. “Someone else will have to try next.” 

Gilag shot the other a look, but said nothing else about it. In the few days that they’d known one another, he’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t like Vector very much. Vector hadn’t done anything in particular to spark this, but Gilag still didn’t like him. 

“We can figure that out if he does fall.” Ryouga declared, his own attention not having wavered from Alit’s athletic display. 

Vector made a small noise that Gilag went out of his way to ignore for the sake of keeping watch on Alit. If anything did go wrong, he or Ponta would be able to help. 

Mizael avoided even looking at Vector, preferring to watch Alit. Not only was the other agile and strong, but the longer Mizael watched, the more certain he was that Alit would make it to the other side successfully. His every leap was measured and certain, and he caught hold of each scythe handle with a firm grip to assure that he wouldn’t go tumbling into the spiked pit’s depths. 

_Maybe some humans have some useful skills after all._ He already knew the three he traveled with weren’t like most of the humans he’d met over his life. Perhaps, just perhaps, some of these others were more useful than annoying as well. 

* * *

Alit could see the lever on the far side much more clearly now. Part of him had somewhat doubted it was there at all. Perhaps Mizael hadn’t seen as clearly as he thought he had. Alit didn’t know enough about elves to be certain if their senses really were as sharp as rumor had said they were. In point of fact, Mizael was the first elf that he’d ever met before. 

He still wasn’t certain why they were the ones chosen for this mission. None of them were. All that their employer told them was that their skills would be useful. But he was hardly the only ex-gladiator in the world. None of them were that unique, so far as he knew. 

Thinking of that kept him from being distracted by the yawning chasm underneath him. It was just far enough away that he thought if he did somehow slip he could catch himself before he fell too far, and close enough that if he misjudged… 

Well, he wouldn’t misjudge. That was all there was to it. 

He didn’t bother looking back. He didn’t want to think of how far from everyone else he was. He focused on what lay ahead of him and how close he was to being done with this. 

_What else is going to be down here?_ There would be more traps. He didn’t doubt that. It only made sense for there to be multiple ones for anyone trying to track down these thieves to go through. There probably was some other way to go to get to wherever they were, since he doubted these guys wanted to run their own gauntlet every time they went in or out of their lair. 

Finding that wouldn’t be possible, not with that door sealed behind them. So, no way to go back, and going forward meant risking their lives. 

Alit grinned as he took another leap. He’d risked his life for years anyway. Why should he stop now? 

He reached for the scythe handle even as he began to land. He paid all of the attention that he should. He wasn’t too worn out, not to the point he would’ve lost his grip. 

Perhaps the rhythm of the scythes was off, just a fraction. Just enough so that his leap was mistimed by only a hair. It didn’t matter how much. What mattered was that his feet slipped just a little, and where he’d thought to land safely, now open air stretched out beneath him, with a fall that suddenly seemed far too short between him and being pierced to death on the rocky spikes. 

Alit didn’t bother thinking. He didn’t _need_ to think. All he needed to do was act, and that was what he did. His hand still touched the scythe handle, though as gravity worked its will on him, it wouldn’t for much longer. 

A silver streak of pain shot across his back as another scythe, far too close and which he would’ve easily avoided if he’d landed where he’d _wanted_ to, sliced by him. He could feel a thin trickle of blood creeping downward and clamped down on the thought as hard as he could. It wasn’t his first injury and he doubted it would be his last. It just wasn’t what he needed to think about now. 

He managed to wrap his hand more tightly around the scythe’s handle and swung himself upward, somersaulting over until he found another scythe to balance himself on. He still couldn’t pay attention to the fiery streak across his back; not until he was on the other side and knew he was safe. If he would be safe. If any of them were safe here. 

Noises came from the far side, where everyone else waited to see how he would make it through this. He pushed them aside too, putting them into the small mental compartment where pain and sweat and blood waited for him to have the time to pay attention to them. 

Yes, the lever was a lot closer now. One more jump, two at the most, and that would do it. He wasn’t sure what the lever would do, now that he thought about it. 

_What if it’s a trick? What if it kills us all?_ Well, he would’ve enjoyed himself jumping across here and being sliced as if he were to be the main course at dinner, then. Since the other option had been standing on the far side until they all starved to death or fell dead of old age, depending on what the magical types could do, trying the lever was definitely better. 

His back throbbed. No. He ignored it. Thought about something else. Stared at the lever and tried to decide if it would be better if he made one jump or two. One jump would get him there faster but would be riskier. Two jumps would be safer, but would take longer. 

One jump. He needed the risk, to replace the blood in his veins with the fire that he lived off of. He drew in a breath and held it until he could feel the moment was right. Nothing mattered but the last jump, the one that would end it all. 

He thought he could hear voices, but they meant nothing to him now. He needed only the feel of the wind in his ears and the solid earth under his feet. 

_Now_! He pushed off, arms tucked around his knees, somersaulting; it was no more difficult than avoiding a blade after all. So many times and yet again he won, uncurling just in the nick of time to land on the far side, crumpling down to his knees in the next breath, his heart racing, sweat dripping and stinging in his eyes and in the bleeding scratch on his back, his muscles aching. 

It took him a few breaths to full focus on the situation around him once again. He stumbled to his feet and seized hold of the lever, yanking it until he figured out which way it needed to go. Fearsome rumbles echoed around, and he tensed again, ready to move if he needed to. 

The scythes rose up out of sight and where the spiked pit had been, now there stretched a gleaming roadway of brushed metal, bridging the distance between the two sides. For a few moments, no one moved at all. Then a swirl of fur and curiosity wriggled forward, pressing one paw on the newborn floor. 

“It’s there!” Ponta declared, swishing his tail as he began to scamper across. “Come on, let’s go, da pon!” 

To no one’s surprise, least of all Alit’s, Gilag was the first to cross once his furry companion gave the all-clear signal. Mizael followed after, with Vector only a few steps behind. One by one they all crossed over, and Ryouga nodded at the gladiator once they stood together again. 

“That was good work.” 

For a brief flash of a moment, Alit recalled being praised by Leonius. It was nothing in the looks or the voice, and nothing he could truly identify, but the words reminded him all the same. He mentally shrugged, a faint whisper of pain flickering through him as he did. 

“Someone had to.” Besides, it had kind of been fun, now that he looked back on it. Even almost falling had a thrill to it. 

Gilag stepped up behind him, eyes narrowing as he checked out the back of Alit’s tunic. “Hold on.” He didn’t give Alit a chance to disagree as he set one hand there, a wave of warmth washing through the ex-gladiator from the point of contact. The pain faded away and tension ebbed out of his shoulders at the same time. “Better?” 

“Lots. Thanks.” Alit had received magical healing before, most memorably when one fight in the arena had gone far worse than anyone expected it to, but Gilag’s touch wasn’t like the impersonal healers hired to tend to the gladiators. Alit hadn’t even asked for it, and yet Gilag still gave of himself. 

A short distance behind them stood another doorway, this one covered in vines and with a bit of moss hanging from above. All seven eyed it with the same caution the scythes had received, if not somewhat more so. 

“I don’t see any other way to go but here, do any of you?” Rio asked, checking around the area just to make certain. As their only other option remained the way they’d just come from, the door of the vines beckoned onward. 

“This treasure better be worth it when we get to it,” Alit murmured as they started through the doorway. Vector smiled in a fashion that was meant to be reassuring and wasn’t anything of the sort. 

“It is indeed, my friend. It’s worth all of this and more.” 

**To Be Continued**


	3. Maze Mistakes

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 3: Maze Mistakes  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,541||story: 7,665  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

Gilag knew that healing Alit’s injury probably hadn’t been the wisest use of his abilities. It hadn’t been a very _bad_ wound to start with, but the smell of blood brought back memories he’d spent some time trying to ignore. For the most part he did a very good job of that, but actually the coppery scent stirred those images up again. 

He probably could have just cleaned it off and applied a bandage, but he wanted that smell gone entirely. He would need to focus on this trip through who knew where, and the last thing he needed would be memories of battlefields long gone swirling and churning around in his mind. 

Ponta’s soft touch on his ear reminded him of where he was as the group made their way through the corridor to what was likely another trap. He liked this area better than the metal and light they’d left behind. He could’ve wished for more light in general, but torches lit this area now instead of the magical light from before, and the walls that rose around them were of good mud and rock instead of impersonal metal. 

The smell wasn’t right, though. This wasn’t something that had grown up naturally and been worked around. People had had a hand in this. He frowned, checking the area out more carefully with each step. There was more than mud and rock around them. Moss and lichen spread out as well, and water dripped both far and near. 

_We’re farther underground now, too._ He wasn’t certain of how far underground they were, but without it being too obvious, they’d gone far deeper than expected. 

“What sort of place is this?” He murmured half to himself as they moved along. The words weren’t a moment out of his mouth before once again, a door closed behind them, this one made of the same rock that enclosed them. 

Mizael’s eyes narrowed as he looked first to the slab of rock between them and the previous room, then over to Gilag. “A place people aren’t meant to escape from easily. If they escape at all.” 

“I don’t like doing things people expect of me.” Vector’s smirk slashed across his features, sharp and quick and with a twisted sort of amusement. “So let’s get out of here.” 

Gilag wasn’t going to complain about that. He felt much the same way. Despite not especially liking Vector, he did agree. At least for right now. 

Ryouga took the first few steps forward, looking around. Though no one had specifically named him the leader, he took the head more than the others did, and Gilag could see he was used to being obeyed, whether he openly admitted it or not. 

“This looks…like a maze of some kind.” Ryouga’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head this way and that. “Look.” He gestured quickly and Gilag obeyed. The corridor ahead of them split into three parts, one to each side and one in the middle. There were other corridors, archways, and openings along each one, some leading into others, from what Gilag could see, others leading to dead ends, and still others going far out of sight. 

“I don’t like mazes.” Mizael muttered, fingers playing with a strand of his long hair. Vector’s eyes brushed over him briefly. 

“There has to be a way through here.” The guide pointed out. “So who should try to find it?” 

“Why does there have to be?” Mizael challenged back, eyes sparking with annoyance. “These are not honorable people we’re dealing with. They’re thieves. Murderers. I would expect nothing less from them than leading any followers to believe their traps can be navigated, just to feed someone’s overconfidence.” 

Vector’s lips twitched for a brief moment and he was about to say something else when Ryouga beat him to it. 

“You could be right. But we’re going to have to try to get through here anyway.” 

That only made sense; with everything sealed behind them all they really could do was go forward. None of them liked it. They all knew it. 

Durbe examined all of their options carefully before he gestured one way. “Let’s try going this way.” 

“Why that one?” Alit asked, a hint of challenge in his words. Durbe didn’t rise to the bait but only shrugged. 

“It’s as good as any other.” 

With little else to recommend any of the others, the group started down that particular path. Gilag wished he could feel some sort of breeze. He hadn’t gone so long without the touch of open air on his face in months, if not years. But down here, there was no kiss of the wind, nothing but earth and rock and water and moss. 

Well, at least the moss was there. He brought up the rear of the group as they walked, and brushed his fingers across it. Like virtually everything alive, he could feel the _life_ itself in it, roots dug deep into the earth. It wasn’t what he was used to, but it was life all the same, and he approved of that. 

Ponta made a few quiet noises, but for the most part remained silent on his shoulder. The raccoon-dog very seldom spoke around others, and Gilag wondered now and then what his companion thought about their trip here. Ponta was as much a creature of the open air and sky as he was now. Perhaps his furry friend could return there whenever he wanted. Gilag didn’t know the full extent of Ponta’s abilities and didn’t want to ask. Some things should always remain secret, he’d learned. 

They took turns carefully as they made their way through the maze, or attempted to do so anyway. The farther they went, the more Gilag didn’t like it. Something around here was wrong. 

_You’re imagining it._ Gilag wanted to believe it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d thought something was one thing and it was another altogether. He’d nearly died on the battlefield because of that conviction once before. 

No matter how hard he tried, he’d never actually forget _that_. The memory of his final battle, of blades slicing into him, bypassing his armor and shredding him nearly to his core, would forever live in the back of his thoughts. If it hadn’t been for Ponta, he wouldn’t have survived to this day. 

No matter what, though, the thought grew stronger and stronger in his mind. Something wasn’t right about the way they were going. He paused for a moment, finding a particular bit of lichen that looked a trifle different from the others, and memorizing it completely before he moved onward. 

“How much longer is this going to take?” Mizael grumbled what could’ve been a quarter of an hour later, as one booted foot sliding through a patch of muddy water that trickled from a small gap between two stones. “This is madness.” 

“This is a maze.” Gilag said quietly. “And it’s one I think we’re going in circles in.” 

Ryouga looked back at him at once, Rio and Durbe’s gaze following. “What makes you think that?” 

Gilag gestured to the lichen growth he’d marked before. “Because I memorized this earlier. We’ve passed it three times already.” 

Tense silence fell among the seven of them. Mizael’s fingers twitched as if in search of something to strike against. “Circles?” Rich anger wrapped around his words. “We’re going in _circles_ here?” “Maybe not circles entirely,” Gilag admitted. “But we aren’t making progress.” Something else teased and twitched at his mind and he wanted to work it out somehow. He wanted this to make sense, no matter how hard he had to batter at it. 

“So how do we _not_ go in circles?” Alit wanted to know, shooting annoyed looks at the lichen-covered walls as if they were the ones responsible for this in the first place. “I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life down here.” 

* * *

“They actually made it through the first trap.” Jackal wanted to throw something. He’d enjoyed making that trap. He’d picked up the idea from old stories he’d read about royal tombs and the way they were protected from thieves. And yet somehow that one skinny kid made it through? It wasn’t _fair_! 

Coyote stared deeper into the mirror. “They might’ve made it through there, but they’re not getting anywhere in the maze. And even if they did, the rest of the traps would stop them.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Jackal bit the words off, not even bothering to look at the images. He didn’t want to see them figuring out the rest of what had been set up to stop them. “What if they do? What if they actually make it all the way through them all?” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it if they did.” Wolf spoke calmly from where he enjoyed a vast spread of dinner. 

Coyote nodded quickly. “He’s right. We’ll do with them like we always do.” Really, he didn’t see why they didn’t just leave here anyway. Sure, it was a secure location, but they needed to send the ransom demand off anyway. For all that their precious treasure was worth a king’s ransom, they could hardly spend it the way it was. They needed actual coins or gemstones, something that would have value wherever they were. 

He asked that, moving over to pick at some of the dinner himself. He had to admit that he liked the idea of a leisurely meal while their so-called opponents fussed and fought to move more than a few feet without getting lost. They probably hadn’t brought a speck of food with them, and even if they had, their own feast definitely outmatched it. 

Coyote took another look at them through the enchanted mirror. They were a ragtag bunch, that was for certain. Most of them didn’t look as if they’d seen regular meals for at least a couple of weeks, if not more, and had probably been sleeping under trees instead of in a comfortable bed. 

Well, that was their problem, not his. Wolf made certain to take care of them, so they were always in the peak of condition. If it came down to it, they would definitely win any fights. 

* * *

Wolf wasn’t going to admit that he found this group’s persistence annoying. Not to mention something about it rang wrong to his deepest instincts. Not just that other group’s existence and presence in their stronghold, but this whole situation. 

_Why would someone want that treasure stolen?_ It was impressive, a lovely creation of gold and rare gemstones, each one of them black as night: onyx, ebony, black pearls, and others that he couldn’t name. But selling it would be utterly out of the question. The work was too costly; it would be recognized wherever they attempted to do so, and they would be quickly captured. 

Ransom made much more sense, and they would send the message to Don Thousand soon enough. But the whole situation still touched him in a manner he didn’t like. 

_I’d almost say this was too easy._ They’d spent years pulling off smaller heists in the area, and building up the defenses of their stronghold, weaving each of them together to make certain that almost no one could make their way through. And then just a week earlier, someone strolled into their deepest sanctum as if everything that lay between it and the outside world didn’t. 

“I have a job for you.” His voice, smooth and deep and rich and as bland as an egg, struck right into the deepest part of Wolf’s mind, and there hadn’t been a single moment when he’d thought of turning the job down. Promises of riches beyond his wildest imagination whispered to him, and a promise that their fame would spread all over the kingdom, and others beside. Even if he’d wanted to consider refusing, those enticements made certain he wouldn’t. 

It did disturb him that he hadn’t ever seen their employer’s face. A dark hood concealed him, with only the gleam of wicked eyes peeking out briefly. Wolf had formed the vague image in his mind of someone of unutterable beauty, the kind that drew one in to commit anything that would please someone so fair, but he’d never actually seen any such features. That kind of face seemed to fit their voice, that was all. 

He’d never spoken of that to Coyote or Jackal. They’d been away at the time, acquiring supplies, and he’d been busy trying to decide what else they could do to increase their reputations. Taking on a few honest jobs hadn’t been out of the question. But those jobs vanished out of his thoughts the moment he’d made the bargain with this person. 

Taking those jobs would probably still _work_ on some level. They could rescue children or restore a priceless artifact to the proper owner. But none of those would or could compare to the idea of stealing a royal treasure from Don Thousand, whose armies and magic were legendary, especially one that was to be sent to the kingdom of Kuragari, whispered land of shadows. 

Already their employer had answered his part of the deal, since there wouldn’t be a party of heroes here if their theft hadn’t been important. And this group could be nothing but a party of heroes. He could see the differences in their abilities clearly, and only heroes, or those who sought to be heroes, tended to group together like that. 

Heroes. He didn’t know how much their reputation would spread if their stronghold’s defenses killed them all but perhaps that was something their employer would know more about. 

**You need not worry about this.** He knew that voice: their employer. Strong and rich it echoed in his mind, striking in the deepest parts of his soul. **All will happen as it should. You do not doubt me, do you?**

Of course he didn’t. Everything had gone just as his employer said it would. There had been just the number of guards on the treasure as he’d told them, and the place he’d suggested for the ambush had provided every amenity they’d needed for it. Even the fact they hadn’t killed all of the guards worked in their favor. They’d escaped and now the heroes came, which would increase their reputation when the word got out. 

**Do not worry about the ransom. That will come in due course.** Again that voice, so knowledgeable, so wise, so cunning. **Watch for those heroes and when the time comes, you will know what to do with them.**

Wolf reached for his food and nodded ever so slightly, not enough for anyone else to notice. Jackal and Coyote knew that they worked for someone else on this, but he hadn’t told them anything else about it. This wasn’t something that they really needed to know. It wouldn’t be the first time someone gave them a job through him, and he doubted it would be the last. 

**That’s right. Does it really matter who I am? So long as I give you what you want.**

It didn’t. And what Wolf wanted right now was to finish dinner and watch the heroes as they wandered around the maze. 

**To Be Continued**


	4. Follow The Druid

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 4: Follow The Druid  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,624||story: 10,289  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

“Marking which way we’ve been isn’t going to get us through here any faster,” Durbe pointed out, calm as ever. Many people wondered what it would take to break that calm. If there was a way to do it, Ryouga didn’t know it, and he and his sister had known Durbe since the three of them were little more than toddlers. 

He drummed his fingers on his arm, trying to work out how to get through this. There had to be _something_. Durbe was right; just marking it might get them through, but depending on how complex this maze was, it might not do so before they needed more food or water than they had on them. 

He wasn’t sure if water could even be an issue; they could all hear it trickling here and there, but he wasn’t sure if he trusted it here. He knew at least one of the thieves they chased had some kind of magical skills, and it would be child’s play to poison the water here. 

Ryouga flicked a quick glance toward Mizael, wondering if the ranger’s skills would be able to get them through this. He’d only known Mizael for a few weeks, perhaps a month or so all together, but wasn’t this the sort of thing a ranger should know? 

He opened his mouth to say something to that effect when he was interrupted. 

“The fresh air is coming from this way.” Gilag pointed down one corridor that they hadn’t tried yet. “And the water is loudest that way too.” 

Ryouga eyed the burly druid with all due caution. Those muscles hadn’t come about from farmwork; he’d seen more than enough soldiers in his lifetime to recognize one, even if he didn’t call himself that now. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” The simple answer spoke volumes. “I’m very sure.” 

The bard considered him for another few moments. “So let’s try that way, then. You lead.” 

Gilag nodded, taking a tighter grip on his staff before he moved forward, long strides eating up ground quickly. The other six followed, with whispers and murmurs echoing faintly around them. Ryouga paid little attention, other than to figure out who it was. Mizael, Alit, and Vector, and from what he could hear, Vector was far more annoyed by this than the other two. 

Well, that didn’t surprise him. Vector never seemed to be completely thrilled by anything they did, though Ryouga didn’t know why. Perhaps he didn’t like the fact that he’d been part of the expedition the thieves had attacked that led to all of this in the first place. Some people just couldn’t accept failure. 

From what else he could hear, even without paying proper attention, Alit was praising Gilag’s skills, and Mizael agreed that this way did seem to be bringing them through areas they hadn’t been through yet. Whether that would bring them to the end no one could yet agree on yet. But progress was progress, no matter how little it was. 

* * *

Gilag didn’t like the feeling of everyone’s attention being on him, but he didn’t want to stay down here any longer than any of them did. Perhaps he wanted to be out into the sunshine more than they did. Regardless, he kept his attention firmly on the moss and lichen, not just marking to make certain they didn’t roam around in circles yet again, but seeing which of them seemed the healthiest. That was the strongest indication of what direction they should be going on. 

“You’re getting good at this, pon!” Ponta murmured into his ear, with an approving swipe of one paw as well. “Really good, pon!” 

Gilag didn’t blush. People like him just didn’t. But he could feel his cheeks heating up anyway, and made certain to keep his attention fully on finding their path. “It’s thanks to you.” 

It really was. Ponta was the reason he was even able to stand here in the first place and figure out which moss patch was healthier than the one next to it that looked almost identical. Some of the patches were even almost identical in health, which meant he had to stare at them for several minutes before he could identify some minute detail that provided a clue. 

If it weren’t for Ponta, he’d be cold meat in the ground, instead of having chosen a new life that gave him a chance to truly accomplish something of actual worth. Anyone could be strong and swing a weapon. It took someone _special_ , someone who wanted to learn, to form the kind of bond with the world that he had, with the help of the raccoon-dog. 

At least that was what Ponta kept telling him, and so far Ponta hadn’t been wrong yet. It gave him a security that he’d never had before, and he didn’t look back on the past that often. No more than he could help, when the scent of blood still stirred up those memories. 

Alit strode up next to him, curly head tilted to the side. “How are you doing this?” 

In all the time they’d known one another, Alit had expressed some interest in Gilag’s abilities, but didn’t share them, no matter how hard he’d tried. Still, there was nothing wrong with trying. 

“Moss needs a particular amount of water to grow properly, and good clean air, too,” Gilag began. He could almost see Alit’s eyes starting to glaze over, but he tried anyway. “The way through to the end is the way where the water and air’s coming from.” That made sense; it didn’t matter what magic was used to build this place, plants needed water and air no matter what. It seemed simple enough to him to use that to know which way to go. 

From the look on Alit’s face, Alit didn’t feel entirely the same way about it. But he said nothing to contradict Gilag’s decisions and followed him but a mere step behind. 

Mizael moved up a little closer, his attention on the moss as well. “You’re good at this.” There was a grudging sort of tone to his words and Gilag guessed the elf hadn’t spent much of his time praising other people. 

“Practice.” He shrugged; learning this gave him something to fill the long days, when he’d taken care of all of his garden and made certain that no one was wandering in his territory without his approval. Granted, after the first few months, wanderers had become few and far between, and he had more and more time to devote to practicing this. He wasn’t going to complain. 

Mizael grunted at that, taking the next turn in time with Gilag. Gilag wondered precisely what an elven ranger, someone who usually would spend most of his time connecting with the wilder creatures, was doing caught up in all of this. He knew his own reasons, and those were why he would continue to head forward instead of powering through the exit, such as it was. 

No one chopped down trees in _his_ territory, especially with so little to recommend them for doing so beyond ‘they wanted to’. Building material for homes was acceptable. He didn’t like it very much, but he could understand it. Doing it to clear space for farms was something else he wasn’t fond of, but sometimes it had to happen. What he’d found…he tried not to think about it. It would set off his temper and now wasn’t the time. 

“Are we almost there?” Vector’s whine floated up from the back of the group. “I’m tired of all of this.” 

“Aren’t we all?” Rio muttered, her grip around her own staff sparking and a faint gust of chill wind dusting past her. “We’ll be done when we’re done. Don’t complain about it.” 

Gilag didn’t have eyes in the back of his head, unless Ponta happened to be looking behind him, but he didn’t need them to guess that Vector likely wasn’t too happy with the young priestess. Let him be; Rio could clearly take care of herself. Magic rang strong within her, and Vector would likely find that out the hard way if he pushed her too hard. 

Instead, he focused on answering the question. “I don’t know how much farther we have to go. But we’re getting much closer to where the water comes from.” He could hear it running much stronger, which meant it wasn’t just little trickles anymore. It might even be on the way to becoming an actual river. The thought of running water sped his steps up just a little more. He could use a good drink. They probably all could. 

There wasn’t any real way for him to keep time down here, not like he usually did with the passing of the sun and the length of the shadows, but he knew it hadn’t been much longer before the corridor they followed widened and the river was no longer a suggestion of water, but a roaring reality in front of them, hemmed in only by large boulders and sluicing somewhere out of sight. 

“Think we could get out that way?” Vector asked, staring to where the river vanished into the shadows. Just to be certain, he turned and checked the way it swirled toward them. Either way could probably provide a way out. 

Gilag reached down to brush his fingers through the water, checking for signs of life. It took him a few minutes to work through it, but there were fish there, and the river itself nourished life in various places as well. He nodded to himself; there might well be a place for them to get out if they followed it, one way or another. 

“Maybe. But we’re going to keep ahead.” No one gained answers to their problems by running away from them. It might be useful to keep in mind once they’d actually found the treasure, but before that? They weren’t going back. 

“So I guess the next question is how do we get over this?” Alit checked out the span of the river, judging it carefully. “Well, how do _you_ get over, it anyway.” He would be able to jump over it; the river didn’t cover the whole room, and there was a broad expanse of rock on the far side that would give him a place to land. 

Before anyone could give a solid answer on that, a roar echoed all around, the sound of a wild and furious beast enraged at everything around it. Mizael’s head swiveled to stare across the river, eyes narrowed in a heartbeat, lips thinning in a cross of anger and pure rage. 

“What is that?” Ryouga murmured the words, one hand reaching to the rapier at his belt. “It didn’t sound…right.” 

That was one way to put it, and Gilag didn’t know of any other way to describe it himself. From the way Mizael looked, he would have the words. But if those words were repeatable in good company remained to be seen. Gilag didn’t think they would be. He also didn’t think that he would disagree with them. 

“It isn’t right.” Mizael bit off the words in a low hiss. “And I need to do something about it.” 

The group of seven lined up next to the river, cold water dashing across them, not enough to soak, just enough to annoy. From the way Vector muttered, one would think that every single drop had been especially designed by someone to annoy him in particular, however. Used to his chatter by now, no one paid him that much attention. 

Gilag considered, then mentally shrugged. There really wasn’t any better way to do this, as much as he was certain Alit would enjoy the chance to show off by leaping over the river. He slammed his staff down on the moss-covered ground beneath his feet, his will reaching upward to where thick tree roots grew far above them, calling on them to extend downward, shaping them into what he wanted them to be. 

Branches wound down next to the river, coursing across it in an archway, burying themselves on the far side, deep and strong. Grass and moss covered the branches, strengthening it, as did the roots winding all around them, digging deep down to make exactly what he asked for: a bridge. 

“Whoa.” Alit admired the sudden creation, a grin bursting out over his face. “You are _really_ good with this.” 

Gilag knew he couldn’t be blushing. He hadn’t been this close to being embarrassed since the first day he’d seen the beautiful bard Sanagi at the tavern near his forest. And yet his cheeks burned a flaming red. He lifted his head, confidence in his eyes. 

“It won’t last forever. Let’s go.” And he moved across the bridge, ready to face whatever lurked on the other side. 

* * *

He smiled, watching as the group moved through the second of the challenges. This was exactly what he wanted from them. The obstacles were proving to be just what he wanted as well; enough to give them pause and make them work, but not to actually stop them. 

If they were all that he suspected they would be, then this would only be the first stop for them. The first grand adventure that would not only wield them together as the unstoppable force he wanted, but bring him the greatest treasure in all the lands. 

It was, perhaps, a little too bad that he’d had to resort to certain acts in order to bring them all together, but one couldn’t gain greatness without having to crush others along the way. It wasn’t as if he’d done it all on purpose, either. It had simply happened by…convenience. That was as good a word for it as any. 

Perhaps they might be annoyed if they learned more of the truth, but he had no plans for them to do so. They didn’t need to know everything that he did. Ignorance was bliss and all of that. 

And that held true for _every_ member of the group, whether they all knew it or not. 

* * *

“Seriously? Two traps and they just walk on through like it’s nothing!” Jackal threw the remains of what had been a fine roasted chicken against the wall. No one moved to pick it up, but Wolf did give him a very stern look. “They’re going to get down here.” 

“I believe we’ve already discussed this.” Wolf reminded him, and Jackal winced, even as he went to clean up his mess. “It’s nothing to worry about.” 

Jackal grumbled a little more, Coyote echoing it, but neither of them really wanted to fight their leader on this. Knowing he was right didn’t make it any easier to deal with. They’d all put in a lot of hard work to get those traps set up, and to see them being so easily dealt with, as if they were little more than a minor inconvenience, annoyed them all far out of measure. It annoyed Jackal and Coyote at least. Neither of them could be entirely certain if Wolf was as bothered by it as they were. 

_He’s been kind of weird since this started._ He had made deals without them knowing who the other party was before. That wasn’t anything new, though it still wasn’t what they preferred. But Jackal had noticed moments when Wolf seemed different, his head cocked as if listening to a voice only he could hear. 

He wanted them to get through this, to get rid of those wanna-be heroes and move on to the next part of the plan. But they couldn’t do any of that without Wolf’s permission. And he didn’t look as if he’d give that any time soon. 

**To Be Continued**


	5. Vector's View, Mizael's Madness

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 5: Vector's View, Mizael's Madness  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Relationships:** Vector x Mizael  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,598||story: 12,887  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

Vector watched him. Mizael could all but feel the presence of those violet eyes. It wasn’t a constant thing; Vector would’ve been a complete idiot if he hadn’t watched where he was going in this underground labyrinth. But when no one else was looking, when there was nothing actively threatening any of them, then every so often, his gaze brushed over Mizael. 

The ranger couldn’t find himself very surprised by this. He took great pride in his appearance, and it certainly wasn’t the first time that humans had simply stared at him, completely overwhelmed by how much fairer an elf was than a human. He couldn’t blame Vector, either. _He_ would stare at himself as opposed to a human if he had the chance. 

At least it wasn’t very annoying. He could ignore it when other, more important matters called for his attention, such as the earthshaking roar that came from ahead of them now. 

Gilag took the time before they moved onward to put the roots and branches he’d called from the trees above back into place, and while he did that, Mizael watched the shadows ahead, searching for any clue as to what it was that lurked there. 

He could tell just by the sound of it that it wasn’t a creature of this world. Summoned beast from the eldritch lands or crafted creature from some mad mage, he didn’t know. It could be either one, or something he’d never encountered before. Though he didn’t expect it would be the latter; he’d seen quite a bit in his centuries of wandering. 

His fingers brushed briefly across the bracelet that clung loosely to one arm. He didn’t like being here underground. There wasn’t enough space for him to call Jinlong, and while he knew he could fight well without his partner’s help, he still preferred knowing the backup was there. 

On some level he’d expected to run into something like this, sooner or later. Don Thousand had told them all that these thieves were more than just thieves; they were involved in a multitude of works that would affect people in many kingdoms. He’d hinted that they knew something of the poison dart that had nearly taken Jinlong from him as well. 

Mizael tried hard not to tense up at the thought. To see his beloved friend falling from the sky, crashing hard into the woods, his wing twisted, one side scraped clean of scales…his own injuries hadn’t meant anything in the light of Jinlong’s. If it hadn’t been for Rio and her own gifts, then his leg might never have properly recovered. He’d paid no attention to it beyond making sure he could walk enough to search for anything that could help Jinlong. 

_If they were involved in shooting him…_ There would be nothing left of them by time he finished with them. Mizael cared little for humans as it was, but the thought that one of them would dare to raise a hand against his beloved dragon would not be tolerated. It _could not_ be tolerated. 

He fought to keep himself under control. Only Rio, Ryouga, and Durbe knew of the raging anger he kept toward those who’d assaulted Jinlong. He didn’t see any reason why the other three needed to know. No matter what they’d been told, they were not comrades, much less friends. He was there only to find out if these Fallguys truly were the ones who he needed to kill to avenge the injury. Once he knew that, he didn’t care what else they did. 

Another roar shook the ground, and Mizael stared ahead of them, taking quick steps to come to the head of the group. 

“Do you know what it is yet?” Vector asked, only a breath or two behind him. Mizael didn’t bother to look at him when he answered. 

“Not yet. But it’s nothing that should exist in this world.” He couldn’t yet decide what he wanted it to be. If it were some kind of summoned creature, then he would have to find a way to reverse the summons and send it back to where it belonged. That wasn’t his best work; he knew some magic that could call creatures into this world, but he usually let his calls expire of their own will, not sending them back before time. If it were a created creature, then it would have to be destroyed, and the quicker the better. Creations were frequently stronger and faster than ordinary creatures of any world, and this one could only be set here in order to kill anyone who approached. 

“How can you be sure?” Vector eyed the tossing shadows ahead of them, still staying only a step behind Mizael. Mizael approved; he didn’t want anyone else trying to get in there and probably getting their head bitten off for their troubles. 

“Because I know what most of the creatures that _should_ exist in this world should sound like. That’s nothing like them.” He hadn’t heard the cry of every animal that walked this world, but unless these thieves had dragged some exotic creature from ten thousand miles away, he had a reasonable list of what it could or couldn’t be in his head. What he’d heard sounded like none of them. 

He didn’t look at Vector. He kept all of his attention on the roaring ahead of him. From what he could hear of the footsteps of the others, they weren’t that far behind him, and their murmuring told him clearly that they were as disturbed by this as he was. 

Or thought they were, anyway. They didn’t know as much as he did about how unnatural the creature was, which meant they really didn’t know how upset they _should_ be. 

The corridor they’d followed after the river curved to one side, and Mizael paused just before the curve, glancing at the others. 

“Whatever this is, leave it to me.” He didn’t give them an explanation on why. They didn’t need to know. Every sense he owned, the normal five and all of those trained and honed to a razor’s edge by living with a dragon and training as a ranger, told him that this was his fight. He loosened his sword in its sheath and started around the corner, ready to finish this in a matter of moments. 

He expected the creature to be chained or caged or restrained in some fashion. What else would keep it in check when it could likely smell them as clearly as he could see and hear it? 

So seeing the thick collar and chain around the creature’s neck as he entered didn’t surprise him at all. What surprised him, and blinded him of anything that resembled reason, was what lay there, rising to its feet even as he entered. 

To the unknowing eye, it was a dragon. Smaller than the norm, perhaps, but with two great wings, a half-dozen horns scattered on its head, long, thick legs tipped with sharp talons, a spiked tail that looked more than capable of knocking prey down so the mouth full of horrendous teeth could shred it to pieces. Anyone with eyes would’ve thought it was a dragon. 

Not so Mizael. Mizael saw one wing of black leather, half-bent underneath the rocky ceiling of the chamber, and one wing of black feathers, half-spread as if preparing to take off from a room with no entrance. The horns were all of different sizes and shapes, something that no dragon would have ever had, nor would they have horns growing not merely from their heads, but in random places scattered over their bodies and legs. When it came to legs, there were _too many_ of them as well; proper dragons only had four. This monstrosity, this abomination and blasphemy to all that was draconic, sported _seven_. The tail was far too thick, not the lash of light and power that it should have been. Dragons did not have _clubs_ growing out of them, after all. 

All of that passed through the blond elf’s mind in far less time than it would take to tell. He thought no clear thoughts. He _had_ no clear thoughts. Instead, a heartbeat after he comprehended what snapped and snarled in front of him, he leaped forward, sword in hand. He did not recall drawing it. He didn’t care. He simply moved forward, watching the creature. 

_Whoever crafted it wanted it to look like a dragon. Does it think like one?_ He wasn’t certain if ‘think’ was even the correct term to use, but if it reacted like one, then he had a definite advantage here. He knew better than anyone short of a dragon how they moved in battle. He would not be taken by surprise. 

He would end this foul abomination that mocked a dragon’s true beauty. 

* * *

“Are you sure we shouldn’t help him?” Alit tilted his head back, watching as Mizael darted toward the creature, the elf’s movements quick and enraged. “He looks a little out of it right now.” In all of his time as a gladiator, he’d always known not to let his emotions get too riled up, except for the sheer joy of fighting itself. Mizael didn’t look as if he were enjoying this fight. 

“He wouldn’t want us to.” Rio said quietly, her gaze also on the swift-moving warrior. “He takes dragons very seriously.” 

“I’ve never met a dragon before.” Gilag said. All of them were watching Mizael; there was little else to watch here. His movements darted this way and that as he probed the creature’s defenses and the range of movement it had. 

Ryouga shrugged. “The only one that I’ve met was the one that he calls his friend.” 

“He calls a dragon his friend?” Vector pulled his attention away from Mizael and his work long enough to look at the bard. “What sort of dragon?” 

“I don’t know the different breeds well enough to say, but he was very large and very gold,” Ryouga replied with a brief shrug. “He and Mizael seemed to get along very well too. Mizael said they’ve known each other since he was very young.” 

What the bard didn’t say was what he’d noticed, and not spoken of, when Mizael told them that: the pain that lived in the back of his eyes at those words, and the pride that glowed right along beside it. He didn’t know Mizael well enough to understand what he’d seen, and refused to indulge himself in pointless gossip. 

From the way he watched Mizael work now, though, he could guess at least at some of what drove the ranger to do his work. Mizael’s teeth clenched as he darted and dodged the beast’s striking head, hate the likes of which Ryouga knew very well for himself burning in the shadows of his eyes. The kind of hate that burned only when someone saw something that _should not be_ , no matter what. 

A glance at Rio told him she saw the same thing that he did, and remembered what he did as well. Burning flames flowed through their minds, the shouts of warriors searching for their targets, and above it all, a mocking laughter that echoed into the depths of their souls. 

“A dragon…” Vector murmured the words in a way that Ryouga had very seldom heard anyone speak before, and he turned away to see the guide’s gaze once more on Mizael. 

He’d seen many people stare at others they found attractive over the years. It wasn’t really something new to him, though he’d never had more than a few passing flings himself. But he could recognize the signs, to some extent, without needing someone to all but drool over the object of their affections. 

And he was beginning to see those signs whenever Vector took another look at Mizael. 

Ryouga shook his head a little. “Don’t waste your time, Vector. Mizael isn’t going to be interested.” He figured he might as well nip this in the bud. Mizael was close to being a friend, as close as either he or Ryouga got with anyone, and he didn’t want issues clogging up matters. 

Vector didn’t look away. “And what makes you say that?” 

“Because Mizael barely tolerates humans as it is.” Rio answered for her brother. “He’s not likely to want anything else from one.” 

Vector’s lips curved upward. It wasn’t a smile, at least not the kind that Ryouga was used to seeing from people. He rolled his eyes; if Vector wanted to learn the hard way, then he was hardly going to stop him. 

He fiddled with the hilt of his blade, watching as Mizael’s work continued. It didn’t look as if he’d be stopping any time sooner, either. “Do you think we should lend him a hand?” He glanced toward Durbe, who shook his head. 

“He wouldn’t appreciate the help. I think he considers this a personal affront.” 

Ryouga nodded; he trusted Durbe’s word on almost everything he could think of. For lack of anything else to do while Mizael worked on the beast, he checked the area out, hoping to find some indication as to where they should go after this. He couldn’t see anything close to where they arrived, but in the far back of the room, hidden in shadows cast by the false dragon’s bulk, he thought he spied something. It was little more than a shape, and not one he could see clearly, but he’d check it out once Mizael was done. And the sooner that happened, the better. 

* * *

_Pretty. Very pretty._ Vector decided that about Mizael the moment that he first saw him. It wasn’t a difficult decision to make; the ranger was of elven breed, and by human standards, there wasn’t any such creature as a plain or ugly elf. Every one of them stood graceful and fair, and Mizael was no different. Long golden hair hung past his shoulders nearly to his waist, with gleaming crystal blue eyes that shimmered with deep fires. 

Vector hadn’t given much thought to what might ignite those fires, not until he chanced to see Mizael charging toward this creature masquerading as a dragon. Now he couldn’t quite take his eyes off the ranger. 

Every move Mizael made spoke not merely of his unstoppable rage, but of training and dedication far beyond that of a common warrior. He slipped here and there to avoid the snapping jaws and swiping spikes of the construct. He didn’t always succeed, as streaks of blood on his armor revealed, but the sharp metallic scent drew Vector’s attention even more. 

He wanted to know more about this elf and his passion for dragons. He’d been promised a reward of his own for guiding them this way, and the thought of having Mizael for that reward stirred up passions he hadn’t paid attention to since disposing of his last bedmate. 

“So, he has a dragon friend?” Vector still refused to take his eyes off Mizael. He didn’t want to miss anything at all. But if Mizael were too busy now to talk, there were those who wouldn’t, and who might well have the answers that he wanted. “I’ve always wanted to meet a dragon. What was he like?” 

He didn’t doubt that he would have to deal with this dragon at some point a well. Better to find out what he could ahead of time. 

_Pretty. Very pretty. But not very bright, I fear._ But that was all right by him. Mizael didn’t require a lot of brains for what Vector had in mind. 

To Be Continued


	6. The Perils of Fighting Not-Dragons

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 6: The Perils of Fighting Not-Dragons  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,563||story: 15,450  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

Too many legs. The wings were all wrong. Not enough eyes. Mizael ticked off the differences in his mind as if marking off a list. The smell alone, rainwater and rot, told him that this wasn’t a dragon, as if he’d needed anything more than his own two eyes and two hundred years of knowing Jinlong to figure it out. 

He wished more than ever that Jinlong could come down here, but there were limits to what even the great golden dragon could do. Jinlong would try if he called him, but getting through everything would take so much time that Mizael felt certain he could already finish this monstrosity before his partner arrived. 

This was all up to him. So be it, then. His sword gripped firmly in one hand, he leaped toward the creature, checking for weak spots. The base of the wings came to mind, mad and misshapen things that they were. The creature snapped at him as he drew closer, but Mizael dodged the teeth and talons as easily as if they’d been waving tree branches. While he’d never fought a construct like this before, he knew what dragons could do. He was prepared. 

At least he thought he was, as the foul thing lifted its head and drew in a mighty breath. He knew what would come next; a blast of fire or ice or whatever breath weapon it used. The ranger judged in a fraction of a moment where the blaze would be and dropped downward, ready to roll away and come up for an attack on the other side. 

From the creature’s mouth there rolled a thick yellow fog, one that filled half the chamber at a moment’s notice. Mizael coughed, his lungs burning from just the few breaths he’d taken, and scrambled back. Something thick and smelly dropped from the thing’s mouth as he did so, landing on his shoulder, and Mizael growled without bothering to look at it. 

It _drooled_ on him. He knocked it to one side, hissing as more pain shot up his arm. Of _course_ the creature’s drool was poisonous. As if it didn’t insult every dragon in existence merely by standing there. 

_Poison…like Jinlong._ That solidified it in his mind. These Fallguys, whatever else they were doing, were indeed involved in Jinlong’s poisoning. He would bring about their end, no matter what. 

He would have to get through this creature first. He waved with his currently uninjured arm toward the others. “Get back! Poison fog!” He didn’t want any of them having to deal with this. The less of them that were affected, the better. He could put up with being healed afterward. Better one person than all of them needing it. 

Mizael shifted his grip on his sword and darted forward again, dodging more lines of drool with more ease now that he knew what to expect. He could see it lifting its head; whether it wanted to snap at him again or try more fog he didn’t know, but doing so exposed its throat, and that was where he aimed. Whoever had created this beast had made a fatal error in keeping it chained up. That gave Mizael a chance to strike, since it couldn’t move too far to defend itself. 

Getting into position took a few moments. He had to avoid not just the drool but the remnants of the fog as well, and the claws that moved ceaselessly toward him. He rolled to the side as the heavy scaled head dropped downward, missing getting bitten by the space of far too close. He did notice a few strands of golden hair falling to the ground and shot a furious glare toward the creature. 

“You are going to die.” 

* * *

“He takes his hair seriously, doesn’t he?” Vector murmured, watching as Mizael rolled directly under the creature’s head, taking his sword in both hands, and bunching his shoulders in preparation for a powerful strike. 

“You have no idea.” Rio rolled her eyes. “He spends at least half an hour brushing it three times a day. Three _separate_ half-hours.” 

Vector made a point not to lick his lips. His assessment of Mizael hadn’t changed much in the last few moments. Pretty, but not quite as bright as some he could think of. Definitely strong and skilled in a fight, which appealed to him all the more. 

He still hadn’t managed to get hold of the full story of how Mizael bonded to this dragon of his. In the last few minutes, Rio, Ryouga, and Durbe simply told him that it was far more Mizael’s story than theirs. Durbe added only that they’d first met him when his beloved dragon was in need of help, but that was it. He wanted more details. He wanted to _know_. 

Well, he did want to get to know Mizael better. He would simply have to ask, once they were done with this. Or to be precise, when Mizael had finished off this creature. 

Speaking of, Mizael surged upward, blade piercing through the loosely fitted together scales, sending forth a spill of thick greenish-black ichor that poured all over the ranger. The twins and Durbe winced in unison. 

“He’ll go back to the river to wash that off,” Ryouga muttered, shaking his head. 

Perhaps he might have, and Vector decided already that it was too soon to ask if he could help, but even as Mizael stumbled back, coughing hard in an attempt clear his lungs from the foul mess that covered him from head to foot, the unholy creature stirred more. At first, Vector thought it might be nothing but death throes. 

Then, the creature’s mouth opened, and acidic yellow fog once more began to pour outward. 

_It’s not dead._

* * *

Mizael shook his head, trying to get ichor out of his eyes, and to see what was going on. He could hear the creature moving, and every instinct roared in him to get back. He hadn’t spent this long as a warrior of nature to not know when to listen to those instincts. He skipped away, still trying to see what was going on, and heard instead the scrape of claws and the hiss of the creature’s breath weapon. 

_Why didn’t that kill it?_ He blinked furiously, searching for something to wipe his eyes with, using his ears to stay away from the construct for the moment. _I didn’t miss. I know I didn’t._

He managed to get a good enough look to start trying to figure out the problem. The thing’s throat still lay open where his blade cut into it, but there wasn’t any sign that the injury was fatal. It should’ve been, but it wasn’t. 

_I made a mistake._ Mizael bit off as many profanities as he knew in three different languages. He should’ve guessed. This thing wasn’t a proper dragon and tearing its throat out wouldn’t even inconvenience it. The life force, such as it was, would be held in something else altogether. _Where? What?_

The very idea sent even more rage coursing through him. How had he missed that? He’d been so focused on destroying the creature because it looked like a wretched, twisted parody of a dragon that he’d still reacted on some levels as if it _were_ a dragon, and gone for one of the major weakpoints. 

So, what made this thing different? He moved to the side as he checked the creature over one more time, looking for whatever could give him a clue. The horns, scales, teeth, and claws weren’t that different from a true dragon, except for being in places they had no business being. One single eye, somewhat off-center… 

Mizael’s attention snapped back to that eye, or more precisely, what rested above the eye. He hadn’t noticed it before; it was hard to see from most other angles he’d tried, and he hadn’t _thought_ about it anyway. But there it gleamed, a gemstone half-covered by a pale cream-colored scale. The gem itself was hard to see underneath the scale and in the half-light offered by the few guttering torches that hung on the walls. 

_That has to be it._ There was no other reason for a jewel of any kind to sit there, save to be the being’s life-force. 

He wiped his face as clean as he could, thinking longingly of the river not that far away. He’d wash himself afterward, he decided, and when they got out of here, he’d find a way to get into a hot bath and stay there for several hours. That was one thing he missed about his own territory. There’d been a lovely hot spring that he’d used frequently to soak for hours at a time. 

He’d go back there once they were done, he decided. He needed to check it out and make sure nothing more had happened while he was gone. 

Which meant getting rid of the abomination here, and he knew just how to do it. Now far more confident, he darted to the side the creature couldn’t reach so easily, not with being chained the way it was. With a quick leap he sprang up one muscled leg and from there to the back, wrapping his free hand around the base of the feathered wing and pulling himself up with all of his strength. 

The creature snapped and snarled even more, and Mizael spied the others just out of reach, all of them watching him. Good; they would have something to see in just a few moments. 

He didn’t know how he’d kept hold of his sword. Good training and lots of luck, he guessed. He’d also kept enough of his breath to do this at all. When this was over, not only did he want a hot spring bath, but several days in the clearest air that he could get into his lungs. He still coughed and they still burned, though it wasn’t as bad as it had been when he’d first inhaled the filth. 

_If I find out who made this, I’m going to give them a few pointers about how to keep a breath weapon from tasting like death._ He didn’t care if that was what they wanted or not. He knew _he_ didn’t. 

Slowly he took the last few steps toward the creature’s head. He could tell it knew he was up there, given how the head kept on thrashing about in an attempt to get away from him. He paid that no mind. Instead, he leaped forward, seizing hold of one horn off to the left side of the monster’s face, and kicked it in the nose. The beast’s head fell back, more out of shock than any actual pain, and Mizael steadied his blade. He would have only one chance at this. If he survived this strike, he’d be more than a little surprised anyway. 

But he took it, slamming his sword as hard into the gemstone as he had into the thing’s throat. The jewel glistened for a single heartbeat before spiderweb cracks broke all through it and it fell into a small pile of black shards. The creature howled once more, the sound resonating in Mizael’s bones, and the legs underneath it collapsed, wings falling over and head crashing downward. 

Mizael didn’t wait around for it to fall. He released his grip and kicked off, backflipping to land on his feet a short distance away, gasping for breath still, and not getting as much of it as he would’ve liked. He stayed like that for a few moments, until the construct fell away into dust and the memory of ichor and poison fog and nothing more. 

“You’re very good at that.” Vector spoke first, coming closer to Mizael as he did. Mizael offered a faint, tight-lipped smile as he forced himself to his feet. 

“I’m going to get cleaned up.” He didn’t wait another moment, but stalked back through the corridor until he reached the river. He hated the aftermath of fights; he always had to wash the sweat and dirt off. At least he could, though. There were fights he’d had when he hadn’t been able to get to any kind of water source, sometimes not for _days_. 

* * *

Ryouga peered at the pile of dust that had been the construct, thinking in the back of his mind how Mizael’s battle would make an epic song of some kind. All of their trek through here would, if they made it out in one piece so he could sit down and pen it. 

Which meant they needed to move on, and to do so as soon as they could. He headed over to where he’d seen the shape of a door, Durbe only a bare step or two behind him. The closer they got to it, the more he shuddered as the temperature began to rise. It wasn’t completely uncomfortable, not yet, but he wondered just what lay beyond the next curve of their trip. 

Rio joined them, her eyes narrowing as she sensed the rising warmth. Her grip on her staff tightened and she glanced back to where the other three awaited Mizael’s return. 

“Do you think we can trust them?” she murmured, the question little more than the breath on the wind. Durbe followed her gaze. 

“So far we have little reason not to. We know Mizael is loyal, and why.” Perhaps ‘loyal’ wasn’t the right word to use for someone they’d known less than half a year, but he wouldn’t stab them in the back and that was good enough. Alit and Gilag both seemed to be decent enough people, and they likely wouldn’t work with Vector beyond this quest anyway. He was there just to identify the treasure once they had their hands on it. 

Rio drummed her fingers on her staff, looking at the doorway again. She didn’t like the heat, but there was little that she could do about it for the moment. She wasn’t going to try reducing the temperature until they were all there. To do otherwise would be something of a waste of her power and she only had so much of that to go around at the moment. 

“How long have we been down here?” Rio asked instead. The sooner she could get out to where she could find an ocean, or some form of truly clean water- she didn’t trust that river, it felt strange to her in a way that prickled at her arcane senses- the better. 

She’d pitched the question with enough volume that the others could hear her, and Gilag looked up the moment she asked it. “Not entirely a day. Perhaps half of one.” 

None of them asked. Druid, that was all they needed to know. Rio nodded; she still had time before she truly _needed_ to get to clean water and work on replenishing her spells. So far no one had needed any extensive healing, though she did want to check on Mizael once he came back from his washing. Yet with the rising heat from that next chamber, she thought she’d need the _other_ kind of spells she specialized in far more than that. 

She examined the way the corridor bent and wondered if it was her imagination or if the shadows cast by the torches danced and watched them as much as they watched the shadows. 

**To Be Continued**


	7. Hair &  Heat

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 7: Hair and Heat  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,531||story: 17,981  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

Mizael scrubbed at the remains of the gunk in his hair, muttering words under his breath in every language that he knew. None of those words were meant for good company, but since he knelt by the ice-cold stream and fought to get himself presentable once again, he didn’t much care. 

He’d put his armor to one side and brushed it over as much as he could, more to make certain there weren’t any holes or damage he couldn’t repair done to it than anything else. Now probably wasn’t the _best_ time for armor repair, but after being vomited on by an unholy twisting of all that he held dear, he wanted to take the time anyway. Whatever else lay ahead of them, it would be best to be as prepared as he could manage. 

That, and he hated the feeling of going up against some other creature with the remains from this one still crusted to his armor and hair. Especially his hair. 

“Need a hand with that?” Mizael wasn’t at all surprised to hear Vector’s voice from the doorway behind him. He didn’t bother to look up. 

“I can manage.” He worked harder at getting the drop of ichor out, paying more attention to that than to the sound of footsteps moving closer toward him. He wanted to get this done; they couldn’t laze around forever waiting for him. 

Well, they could, but he didn’t want to make them. He wanted to get through this dungeon and back topside as soon as he could. 

“Are you sure?” Vector stood directly beside him now, and a quick glance up showed pale violet eyes looking down at him. “Because that looks a little difficult to manage with just two hands.” 

Mizael almost snarled his answer out. “I have done this before.” He almost wished that he knew Vector better, since anyone who knew him would know very well not to bother him while he was tending to important matters such as his armor or hair. His own brother knew better, and he and Alcor hadn’t crossed paths in almost fifty years. 

“We can’t wait around forever.” Vector folded his arms and stared down at Mizael, something teasing on the edges of his lips that may well have been a smile. “I can finish that faster than you can.” 

Now Mizael sat back on his heels and glowered at the guide. “Really.” He didn’t believe it for a moment. 

“I’ll show you.” Vector slipped the brush out of Mizael’s hands and started to work on the ichor-stained hair. He worked from the bottom upward, much as if he dealt with a stubborn knot, and Mizael had to clench his hands into fists hard to avoid enjoying the touch too much. His hair wasn’t precisely _sensitive_ , but he had always enjoyed the feeling of someone else’s hands there. This was all but a stranger doing it, and for reasons other than passion. He didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, most of all Vector. 

“That thing really bothered you, didn’t it?” Vector asked, still working the thick blob farther down to the end of the hair. “I’ve never seen anyone so furious at a construct.” 

That gave Mizael even more reasons to clench his fists. “It pretended to be a dragon.” The way he said it, the way he _meant it_ , said all that mattered to him. 

“So you like dragons.” A hint of raw humor rippled its way through Vector’s voice now. 

“Dragons are the greatest of creatures.” Mizael tilted his head a little to give Vector slightly better access to the long strands of hair. If he were going to do this, then best to do it quickly, which was, after all, the whole point. 

Vector hummed a little as he worked, the small knot inching closer and closer to the end of the hair. “What makes you say that? I’ve never met one myself.” 

“I’ll introduce you to Jinlong when we’re out of here.” Mizael knew that his partner would want to see what was going on with him anyway. He hadn’t liked the idea of Mizael being where he couldn’t come to help if necessary, no more than Mizael himself had liked it. 

Vector nodded, still working with the greatest of care. Mizael wondered vaguely if he took his time just to linger longer over it. Elven hair wasn’t something the average human got to see, much less touch, all that often. “Your dragon friend?” 

“My dearest friend.” He could not imagine caring for any dragon more so than he did Jinlong, or for anyone else, for that matter. He knew other dragons of many sizes, shapes, and breeds, but Jinlong would forever hold a special place in his heart. “He’s magnificent. I would not be the ranger that I am without him.” 

Vector hummed again, tracing the way the fall of Mizael’s hair went. “Is that so?” 

“He taught me almost everything that I know.” He’d learned a great deal from his regular teachers, but Jinlong showed him even more, tricks and skills that no one had been able to teach him. 

“I look forward to meeting him, then,” Vector declared, working the last of the ichor out of Mizael’s hair. Before Mizael could protest, he started to work on the rest of the hair, smoothing it out carefully. “This won’t take long.” 

Mizael decided it wasn’t worth arguing about. He hadn’t been very long at this, not enough to get anyone else annoyed yet. Besides, his armor needed a few more minutes before it was ready for him to put back on. He might as well get his hair taken care of while he was waiting. 

“I think I’ll enjoy meeting a dragon.” Vector murmured as he worked, running the brush all through Mizael’s hair. Mizael stretched and flexed his arms; he’d picked up a few scrapes and scratches in the fight, nothing that he felt he’d need any healing for, but he wanted to make certain he stayed flexible. There would be more battles to come. “This mission is more interesting than I thought it was.” 

“Why is that?” Mizael only paid enough attention to what Vector was doing to make certain nothing untoward happened. He wouldn’t call Vector a perfect gentleman, but he at least knew how to keep his hands in approved places. Some people he’d met couldn’t manage that. Mizael had more than once slit open people who hadn’t behaved. 

“I hadn’t thought I’d meet anyone like you all.” Vector waved the hand that wasn’t working the knots and tangles out. “And I know that I’ve never met an elf before.” 

Well, that explained a great deal. He’d spent more than one night talking to Durbe about his people and their ways, with the mage-knight soaking up the knowledge like a sponge. Vector wasn’t asking the same kind of questions, but the curiosity rang almost the same regardless. Vector wouldn’t be so fascinated once he knew more. 

_I wonder if I should introduce him to Alcor._ His brother would know in moments if Vector had any hidden agendas and if they were something that Mizael should worry about. Having a seer for a brother did come in handy now and then. 

Vector’s hands were callused, Mizael noticed, one of the signs he knew more about fighting than he had yet admitted to. That wasn’t surprising; he’d been a guard on the trail taking the treasure to the oceanside city. But his hands also moved through Mizael’s hair with care, as if he were used to tending long hair. 

“You’ve done this before.” Mizael was not asking a question. Vector only shrugged. 

“My mother had long hair. I would take care of it for her.” The way he bent to pay more attention to his work made it clear he wasn’t going to say anything else on the subject. Mizael didn’t ask; he knew well when things were his business and when they weren’t. 

* * *

Vector soon finished getting Mizael’s hair into order, leaving it in the loose style the ranger clearly preferred. He wouldn’t have minded tying it up; he still remembered how to do so from the years spent with his mother. He pushed all of those memories away; they meant little enough to what he did now. Besides, the last person he wanted to think about when he was in Mizael’s company was his _mother_. He doubted she would’ve approved of his current lifestyle and goals, much less the slow forming of those goals in relation to Mizael. 

His father, he knew quite well, didn’t care what he did or who he did it with, so long as their mutual goals were accomplished. 

“That should do it.” Vector handed the brush back and stepped aside, moving toward the exit beyond which the others waited. He was a little surprised that they hadn’t come to see what was taking so long. Did they actually trust him with one of their own that much? 

He caught sight of something small with bright eyes swishing farther out of sight, back toward where the next room waited, and stifled a smirk. No, they didn’t. He wasn’t surprised. In fact, he liked that they didn’t trust him. It was so much more fun working with people who weren’t idiots. 

Mizael didn’t take much longer getting into his armor and together the two of them entered the room where the battle against the construct dragon had taken place. By the time they were in there, Ponta snugged comfortably between Gilag’s shoulder and neck and didn’t look as if he’d left the spot for a moment. Vector said nothing at all to indicate he knew any differently. 

“We go that way.” Ryouga indicated the red-lined doorway a short distance away. Vector mentally rolled his eyes. Where else would they go? This place was a series of rooms with no chance to choose otherwise, and no way to go back. 

“It’s hot in there,” Rio added, moving forward as she spoke. “We will need to be careful.” 

“We’ve had to be careful throughout this whole mess,” Alit said. “What’s different about this except how hot it is?” 

“What’s making it hot,” Rio replied, fingers tightening on her staff as she headed for the door. “It could be anything.” 

Alit shrugged and followed along with the others. “What it’s going to be is trouble. I can tell you that already.” 

Vector had no reason to argue; he didn’t know what was down here any better than they did, but the fact all of these rooms held some kind of danger made it more common sense than anything else. He looked forward to finishing up this mission and finding out what else he could do, just to be somewhere that wasn’t trapped underground with no choice in where he went or what he did. 

With Rio taking the lead this time the group crossed over into the next room. No sooner had they done so than two facts became uncomfortably clear: breathing was more than a little difficult and that cold river became much, much more inviting than it had been. 

“There’s not supposed to be a volcano or something around here, is there?” Alit groaned, taking a step back. “It feels like there’s one and it’s erupting.” 

Rio shook her head. “There’s something around here causing it.” She looked this way and that, up and down and to all sides. “I can feel it.” 

Vector gave her a careful look. He knew quite well that she was a priestess, but he’d never paid much more attention to her than that. He wondered if that were a bad idea. “What is it that you feel?” 

“Something evil. It could be a demon or a devil.” Rio moved forward, taking each step with care, scanning the whole area with cautious eyes. The room itself wasn’t much; it looked much like an average cave that could be found anywhere, save for the intense heat. On the far side another of those doorways arched, and it was there that everyone began to head. 

They’d crossed perhaps halfway there when a gout of flame exploded in front of them, sending most of them skittering backwards. Rio alone stood her ground, planting her staff firmly in front of her, eyes blazing in fury. 

**Who dares to enter my domain?** The voice rippled and blazed like fire, the column in front of them waving and dancing in tune with the words. **None shall pass! None shall pass!**

Rio shook her head, not giving a single bit of ground. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” 

**This is my ground. This is my home. I ask questions here, priestess.**

“You can answer them too, then. I asked who you are and what you’re doing here. This isn’t a fire demon’s domain.” 

Vector wondered how fast she’d be incinerated. A demon’s domain was where it claimed it was, and there were few who could tell one otherwise and continue to tell the tale. 

**I’ve said enough. This is my home. If you wish to cross further, then you will fight me.**

The smile that touched Rio’s face was one that few could’ve matched for savagery. The rage of ocean storms and ice glowed in her eyes. “With pleasure.” 

She’d scarcely formed the words before a lash of flame whipped out at her. This time she dodged out of the way, eyes wary and alert. Vector almost wished that he had something to eat while watching this fight. It looked as if it would be one of the more interesting ones they’d had down here so far. 

Ryouga and Durbe moved up a little closer toward her, but Rio shook her head. “This is my fight.” 

Ryouga’s hand rested firmly on his sword’s hilt. “Are you certain?” All of them had to dodge the next strike, and Vector suspected the demon wasn’t very happy that Rio kept talking to people that weren’t it. If they were going to fight, she should keep her mind on what she was doing. 

“You wouldn’t do much good against a fire demon anyway, brother.” Rio sent a conjured wave of ocean water splashing against the demon, sending up splashes of steam. “I don’t think they have much of an ear for music.” 

“Of course they don’t. They’re demons.” Ryouga snorted at the very idea. 

Gilag politely cleared his throat. “I’ve encountered demons before. At least one of them had a very pleasant singing voice.” 

“Really?” Rio looked interested at that. “We’ll have to talk about this later.” She gestured everyone else back and took a firmer stand against her enemy. “Let me clear this out of the way first.” 

Scarcely had she said the words before a blast of fire from above and below, centered on her, blotted her from sight. There hadn’t even been time for her to scream. The column of fire blazed where she stood, rippling and dancing in the wind that it caused, and the fire demon laughed harder than ever before. 

**I win, little priestess! You can’t put out fire with your little water droppings! I win!**

**To Be Continued**


	8. Fire and Ice

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 8: Fire and Ice  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,621||story: 20,602  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

The fire demon’s cackles of delight bounced back from the walls, echoing over and over in all of their ears. Mizael’s eyes flicked to Ryouga; in the weeks he’d known them he’d come to understand the deep bond of devotion between the twins. While bards were seldom considered powerful compared to warriors, mages, and the like, he doubted that would hold this young man back from unleashing the full force of his rage upon the creature that took his sister from him. 

He had to admit that he looked forward to seeing what Ryouga would do about this. He’d never seen him express the kind of fury that must surely be surging through the other’s veins. 

And yet as the steam faded away, Ryouga only waited, one eyebrow cocked upward, eyes shifting between where Rio had stood and where Durbe stood beside him, stalwart and unyielding. Mizael’s eyes narrowed. Something was off here. 

“If you think your small sparks are strong enough to evaporate me, then you have a surprise coming, demon.” Rio’s voice rang out from the center of the steam trail. She stepped from the center of it, not so much as a speck of soot on her armor or skin or hair. A pendant in the shape of a wave glowed around her neck, and Mizael recognized it now as a holy symbol. He didn’t recognize the deity off-hand, but he didn’t have to think about it very long. 

Rio raised her staff, then brought it down with all of her might onto the ground. Ice and water burst forth from where it connected, surging toward the demon where it still danced and capered. “I, priestess of Crystal Zero, divine shaper of the ocean, stand before you, protected by Her arms, warded by Her will. You _shall not_ harm me or those whom I protect this day or any other!” 

**Pretty words!** The demon didn’t budge an inch. Mizael himself might well have thought twice if he’d seen the look in those cool eyes of hers turned on him. **You are a mortal, nothing more!**

Rio smiled, and her smile was that of one who knows far more than she wished to speak of. “Did you not hear me? I serve the goddess of the ocean, and there is no flame born that can stand up to Her will.” 

**Do what you think you can! I am more than a match for you!** The demon lashed out with one bright red claw. Rio dodged to the side, quick as ocean waves, and struck back with her staff, sending a wave of deep blue energy toward the creature. It moved to the side, dodging as a flame in the wind, only for Rio to race forward, slashing with more water and ice. 

“What kind of a little demon thinks he can stand up to a fully trained priestess?” Durbe murmured, shaking his head. “Rio’s almost playing with it.” 

Vector glanced toward him, a question in his lavender eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“Just what I said. She could probably finish that thing in a few seconds, at most, if she used her full power on it. But she’s enjoying herself right now.” 

Alit frowned, more focused on the fight between priestess and demon at the moment. “Why drag it out?” 

Ryouga shrugged, as if the matter didn’t mean that much to him. “She likes to play with her food sometimes.” A smile tugged at his lips. He thoroughly enjoyed watching Rio enjoy herself. It wasn’t something that happened as often as he would’ve liked it to. 

* * *

Rio was indeed enjoying herself, full of the power of her goddess, channeling it to lash at the demon. She wasn’t sure of how much effort it would’ve taken for her to destroy it or banish it entirely, but she wanted to make certain that it couldn’t fight her when the time came. For that, she had to wear it down until it was little more than a spark. 

She also wanted to make certain that it didn’t harm any of her companions, especially her brother and Durbe. Fire held little power over her, not with the protections she gained as Crystal Zero’s priestess. But the others weren’t guarded like she was, which meant any stray attacks could cause them far more issues. Besides, most of them had already put in something of a day getting them this far. They deserved a chance to rest and watch someone else work. 

So with every step and strike she made, she led the creature just that much farther away from her friends. She hadn’t had a chance to scout the area and see what sort of tricks or traps it had available to it, but she would take the risk. 

**How dare you! How dare you!** The fire demon raged at her, channeling its own power into a huge blast of flame that would’ve incinerated almost anyone else. The strike even dwarfed what it had tried to use on her earlier, and rather than use up more of her energy in protections, she slipped out of the way, letting it waste itself uselessly against the walls. 

“What am I doing that has you so agitated?” Rio taunted. By now flames rose from nearly every corner of the room, and even she had a few issues breathing from the smoke and steam. She tried not to let that show. “We only want to pass. Let us go and I’ll spare you.” 

She didn’t know offhand if she meant that or not, but it would be a moot point no matter what. Fire demons would never let a priestess of the ocean goddess pass unharmed. Their elements opposed one another far too much, and demons weren’t known for their critical thinking skills anyway. 

**You exist! You bring water here!** It raged even more at her, the heat rising to intolerable levels for the average human. Rio made certain that it kept its attention all on her. 

“You do know there’s a cold river running not that far from here, right?” 

**I don’t care! It doesn’t come in here! This is my place!** The demon kept on raging, and Rio held back a smile. Fire had a weakness that water did not: it needed fuel. And this creature had almost exhausted every bit of fuel here. 

“It may be your place but we are coming through here regardless.” She made up her mind; it had no more strength to fight back, and she needed to end this and bring the others through. “And if you won’t let us, then we’ll go through where you _used_ to be.” 

What the demon said in answer to that was neither coherent nor repeatable in what most would consider polite company. Rio also thought it wasn’t even humanly possible, not with the limits of anatomy. 

“In the name of Crystal Zero, great Goddess of the ocean, creator and weaver of the waves, I banish you from this place!” Rio declared, once more bringing her staff down, her holy symbol glowing with pure blue light. Sacred water, brought into manifestation by her will alone, washed over the demon, splashing against the walls and floor, extinguishing all of the fire, no matter how hot it burned. 

And when the water passed, there was no more sign of the demon at all. Rio sagged down, her energy sapped from her. Calling on Crystal Zero’s power like that took so much out of her, which was another reason she did so only when necessary. 

She drew in several breaths before she dragged herself back to her feet and made her way to where the others waited for her. “The path is clear,” she said, head held high and not letting any of her exhaustion show. “Let’s get going.” 

* * *

“They’re getting closer.” Coyote slammed one foot against the floor, turning quickly to stare at his companions. “They’ve beaten _everything_ so far! How are they doing this? They shouldn’t have made it through the _first_ room and they just keep on coming!” 

Jackal looked every bit as disturbed by this as Coyote himself was. “The next one should give them trouble.” He didn’t sound as convinced as he clearly wished he was. “But we should make some more plans, just in case.” 

Wolf remained where he was, unperturbed and seemingly imperturbable. “Perhaps.” He shifted just a little, turning his attention to his companions. “If they succeed more than they should, we might want to get a little extra muscle.” 

Coyote moved in quick, tight circles as he paced around the room. “Where are we going to get some muscle?” He didn’t know this area as well as he would’ve liked, not for things like extra bodies to throw in between them and their enemies. Where did one pick up people like that around here? This was why he’d been against coming here in the first place. 

“I know a place. It’s in the Scarlet City.” Wolf smiled, his teeth flashing in the light. “We can go and get back before they get close enough to be more of a problem.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Coyote snapped, shooting him a _look_. “The city’s at least an hour away and they’re a lot closer than we ever thought they’d get! What if they get through everything and we come back to an empty box?” 

Wolf shook his head, his lips thinning into something that didn’t resemble a smile anymore. “They won’t. It’s safe. Now, let’s go.” 

* * *

Don Thousand’s city was a marvel of workmanship, glittering spires and buildings crafted of the red marble that filled the quarries nearby. Many people referred to it as the Scarlet City for that alone. The uniformed guards who patrolled the streets displayed the royal colors of red and yellow, as did the flags flying over the distant palace. 

Those guards, however, weren’t in evidence in the maze of alleyways that Wolf led his two companions to. Those few people who skulked along there were more likely to wrap themselves up in dull gray or black cloaks, the better to keep out of sight with. None of them gave the three of them so much as a glance. 

Jackal shared a quick glance with Coyote. “I could get used to this place,” he said. A place where someone gave them the respect they deserved? It was a definite improvement from hiding out somewhere underground waiting for some annoying heroes to show up and spoil the day. 

“Hopefully where we’re going we can get a decent drink?” Coyote wanted to know. He liked the atmosphere here so far, but without a good tavern, he didn’t want to waste his time. 

“We can get a lot of things here.” Wolf jerked his head toward a door not that far ahead of them. A signpost hung from creaking, rusty chains, the design of a foaming tankard somewhat visible still on it despite years of wear and lack of cleaning. 

Coyote couldn’t tell what the tavern was supposed to be called, but the patrons themselves were those he would’ve named ‘scum’ without a moment’s hesitation. Most of them looked as if they had at best a passing acquaintance with soap and water, for themselves or for their clothes and gear. The counter and tables and what he could see of the battered tankards that many of the occupants held told a slightly different story about whoever owned this place, however. While they didn’t gleam with cleanliness, he couldn’t see any spills or recent stains, and everything seemed made of reasonably sturdy materials. 

_If this is the kind of place I think it is, then that’s not a bad idea._ Bar fights could cause a lot of damage and if the stools and tables could stand up to it, that was less money the owner would have to put into repairing their property. 

Wolf led them right over to where the bartender stood behind the counter. The man watched them approach without a flicker of fear. He’d probably seen more dangerous looking people come through his place on a regular basis. Dangerous-looking, but not actually more dangerous, in Coyote’s opinion. Very few were more dangerous than they were. 

“I need to talk to Kaio or Rikuo. Are they here?” Wolf asked. He gestured toward one of the large barrels of beer as he spoke, then toward himself, Coyote, and Jackal. His voice was pitched just low enough so that no one who wasn’t right next to them would realize that he’d said anything at all. 

The bartender didn’t reply openly, but got to pouring drinks. When he had all three ready, he jerked his head toward one of the darker corners. No one sat there, so far as either Jackal or Coyote could tell, but Wolf made his way over there without a moment of hesitation. He settled down on the stool in the very back, indicating for the others to take the two that would put them between him and the rest of the tavern. 

Not that he needed to; this had been their standard seating arrangement for years. Wolf was their leader; they protected him, and he made certain they stayed healthy and well-fed. No need to break up a winning set up after all this time. 

They’d barely taken a few sips before a rough voice spoke up, from a corner that Coyote had barely noticed had a table in it in the first place, much less someone else sitting there. “What is it you want?” 

“Muscle,” Wolf replied at once, as if he’d expected that all along. Coyote realized that he had; he’d guided them here for this very purpose. “We have trouble coming our way and we need a little assistance in making certain they don’t try to steal something that we …acquired ourselves.” 

Coyote tried to get a look at whoever was talking to them, but the shadows clung too thickly there. He caught Wolf’s eye and the other shook his head a fraction. Looking wasn’t a good idea here. 

“How much do you need?” A faint movement, as of a hand lifting and raising something, could just barely be seen. Coyote still tried to ignore it, not wanting to spoil this. 

Wolf considered for a few moments before he answered. “At least twenty. There’s a group of seven and they’re all skilled at something or other.” 

“Describe ‘something or other’.” There was definite wariness in the other’s tone and that got him a few more marks in Coyote’s head. Idiots went up against other people for money without getting information first. Wolf wouldn’t hire idiots. 

He listened as Wolf described what they’d seen of the wanna-be heroes and their abilities, and whoever they were talking to laughed suddenly. “What do you know, Rikuo! It’s _him_! It’s got to be!” 

Another voice came from the darkness. “Never would’ve expected something like this from him.” The second voice chuckled, a sound as mockingly amused as the first. “I think we’ll take your job. It’s been a long time since we saw an old friend, and it looks like he’s one of those people bothering you.” 

“Good. We’ll pay you well once they’re taken care of.” Wolf took a drink from his tankard, satisfaction in his tone. “Our employer will likely add a bonus or two afterwards as well.” 

From the shadows, a figure leaned forward, one burly and built, with a sarcastic smirk twisting his lips. “I look forward to it. This is almost enough to do for free.” He laughed an ugly laugh. “But don’t hold your breath waiting for that.” 

Wolf chuckled softly in his own turn. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

**To Be Continued**


	9. Parkour!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 9: Parkour!  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,791||story: 23,393  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

No matter how she tried to conceal it, Durbe and Ryouga both could see how tired Rio was after her fight with the flame demon. Ryouga moved closer to her, ready to assist if she even looked as if she were going to stumble. His twin gave him a look that said she needed no magic to read his thoughts and if he even considered it, she would freeze him to the floor. Durbe had been around the two of them long enough to know what even the quietest of looks or quickest of glances could mean, and knew when to stay out of matters. 

In truth, he couldn’t remember when he hadn’t known them. He knew there’d been a time, but they’d all been so young then that it didn’t matter to any of them. He’d spent his youth training to be both warrior and mage, melding the two as seamlessly as he could, while the twins were involved in their own studies. They hadn’t spent nearly as much time together then as they would’ve liked to, but they treasured every moment when they could. 

Perhaps that was why he’d come with them on their travels now. Despite what happened before, they now all had a chance to get to know one another better, to forge stronger bonds with each other. 

He didn’t regret coming along, though there were some who might’ve said he’d given up far too much to do so. Durbe cared little for thoughts such as that; the friendship he had with Ryouga and Rio meant far too much to him, more so than any wealth or privilege might have. 

All that he did regret at the moment was that this underground place prevented him from having Mach with him. While he didn’t fly as often as he could, he still missed his beautiful pegasus’s companionship and counsel. Going through all of this drained him and he felt at times as if his thoughts were a little dulled from the constant pressure. They’d never put in this much effort on this kind of scale before and he hadn’t yet made the adjustments. 

No one had ever mentioned to him that being a professional hero could be so very exhausting. 

“I’m fine, Ryouga.” Rio’s voice cut through his reverie. Durbe wasn’t surprised to see her glaring at her twin in raw annoyance. “We aren’t going to get anywhere just sitting here, so let’s _go_!” 

Ryouga shook his head, flicking a brief glance back toward Durbe, who shrugged. As if he was going to get in between the two of them. He’d learned the folly of that before he’d been ten years old. So had everyone else in the surrounding area, and several people on the outskirts. 

“Are you injured in any way?” Gilag wanted to know, leaning a little closer to her, concern in his eyes. Durbe thought they would get along reasonably well once they got to know each other better. He did seem to care about others, which was always a welcome trait in his companions. 

He still wasn’t completely sure about Mizael, but more because the elf tended to keep to himself than anything else. Ever since they’d encountered one another in the southern forests, Mizael didn’t hesitate to make his clear dislike of humans in general known. Durbe didn’t blame him on some levels. If what they’d been told was true, then the humans they chased now were the ones who had poisoned the great dragon Jinlong. 

And if that were indeed true, then Mizael would not rest until he’d finished them all personally. 

If it had been Mach, Durbe knew he would’ve done much the same. Some actions held only one answer, so much as he might regret it at times. 

But regret didn’t mean he wouldn’t _do it_. 

Those were the same actions he would take against someone else, someone who had done evil equally as great to him and to the twins. Especially to the twins. 

The group moved closer to the far side of the room, seeing the evidence of Rio’s battle against the fire demon the farther they did. Streaks of soot and broken stones lay everywhere, along with small puddles of water that gave off faint flickers of energy visible only when he momentarily shifted his gaze into seeing the arcane more clearly. He could tell Gilag sensed them as well, as he gave them a wide berth, hints of respect on his craggy features. 

“Any sign of what’s up ahead?” Alit asked, peering into the darkening corridor of them. 

Durbe took a look himself. The wide room narrowed into a single way, barely enough for one person to pass, and there wasn’t light enough to see what might be at the farther end of this. 

“I think we can guess what it is: trouble,” Mizael murmured softly. The ambient heat from the demon’s chamber seemed to have dried out his hair and it once more floated around his head in the usual gleaming blond mane, which seemed also to have restored what passed for his usual humor. 

“We haven’t had that much real trouble so far.” Vector tilted his head to the side as he strolled along beside Mizael, a place he clearly had come to enjoy. “So whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.” 

Mizael and Rio both gave him very clear _looks_ , while Alit and Gilag rolled their eyes in unison. Durbe kept his own expression plain and focused on the thickening shadows ahead. These challenges or tests or defenses, whatsoever they might be, were not quite so easy to get through as Vector believed they were, and whatever came next, he wanted to be ready for it. 

* * *

Vector definitely approved of Mizael’s hair being back to full glory. The longer he spent around the elf, the more time he wanted to spend around him, and the more he wanted the elf to be at his peak of perfection. He wondered what it might be like to be even closer to him, to hear his heartbeat, to catch the aroma of his skin… 

As much fun as those fantasies were, Vector knew enough to know he needed to keep them to himself, at least for the moment. The mission wasn’t done yet, and he couldn’t let himself forget that, no matter how tempting it might be to do otherwise. 

And whether he knew it or not, Mizael was very tempting. His looks alone caught and held the eye, but that could be said of any elf. The fae races all possessed an unnatural, enticing beauty that could mesmerize mortals who were unaware. But where Mizael was concerned, there was a certain aura of pride in his demeanor, an attitude that told Vector it would be a challenge to get the other to return his interest. 

Vector liked challenges. Especially ones he knew he could win. 

The end of the corridor loomed suddenly, marked by a great iron door reinforced by thick bands of iron, lit by two smoking torches to either side. A dusty stretch of floor reached between the door and where they stood at the opening. 

“It doesn’t have any kind of knob or a lever or anything?” Alit noticed, looking it up and down. Vector managed not to roll his eyes at the obviousness of that. At least outwardly. “So, how do we get it open?” 

“Maybe there’s something out here?” Gilag looked around for anything on the walls or floor. 

Vector wanted to wince. As good as they were at fighting, these were the people who were supposed to win back the treasure? 

“Let me try something,” he said after a few fruitless moments. He didn’t wait for them to agree that he could, moving forward with assurance. 

Alit glared after him as Vector brushed by him, hot eyes attempting to burn through him. “Watch where you’re going!” 

Vector paid him no mind at all, but wove to one side and then another, almost dancing his way across the distance between them and the door. He hummed under his breath as he did so, adding more acrobatic moves to his trip with every second. He could hear the whispers behind him, but for once, didn’t pay attention to people talking about him. They would find out what he was doing soon enough. 

If they didn’t get themselves killed beforehand, which he would _completely_ not be surprised by. Idiots. Tempting as it was to let that happen, he knew he’d have to stop them, for the greater good of the future. 

Well, his greater good. Same thing. 

Finally he landed directly in front of the door and tilted his head back to get a good look at it. It took a few moments of study, but then he nodded to himself. Just as he’d thought. 

“What’s taking so long? It’s just a door!” Alit snapped, starting to move forward. Vector wrenched himself around to glare at the gladiator. 

“Watch where you’re going! Unless you want us all to get killed!” Really! If he had to work with other people here, couldn’t they be people who would listen to reason? Or better still, listen to him? 

Alit took another step, his foot landing on something small and all but unnoticeable in the dusty darkness. A faint click sounded and Vector groaned. 

“I hope all of you are good dancers. Because you’re about to need to be.” 

Before any of them could ask the extremely boring and predictable question of ‘what do you mean’, a large slab of rock slammed down from above, missing Gilag by a hair’s breadth. The druid rolled to one side, staff held outward to block any other dangers, eyes wide with startlement. 

The next one would’ve squashed Alit flat, if the agile gladiator hadn’t dodged out of the way, landing back beside Gilag. 

“What’s going on?” 

Vector didn’t bother to hide his scorn this time. “You set off a trap. One of those I was avoiding. Didn’t you _see_ them?” Their looks of surprise were difficult to see in the dim lighting, but he savored them all the same for that. “You’d better hurry. I don’t think those are going to stop until there isn’t anyone over there.” 

He neglected to mention that he could very well be wrong about that. The runes on the door were difficult to read, even for him. 

Given that he was in the safest place of them all, he turned his full attention on the show about to unfold, saving his main focus for Mizael. He wasn’t so unfair as to _only_ watch him, of course. Seeing Rio and Ryouga dance around gave him a certain amount of pleasure as well. 

And if he secretly hoped that they’d slip and get turned into a thin pasty film, then…well, it was in the silence of his own mind and no one would ever know. 

* * *

Alit didn’t often swear, but right at that moment, he used every oath that he knew, with every ounce of vigor he could muster. He leaped up on top of the slab that had almost crushed him, and crossed quickly to the other side, keeping an eye out for any more coming. Another one did, but that one nearly shaved skin off Rio’s side, and she stumbled forward, almost losing her balance. 

“Rio!” Ryouga started to reach for her and she shook her head, moving forward. 

“Don’t worry about me. I can manage this.” The look she gave him was enough to sear skin, even from Alit’s distance. He decided to let them handle this on their own and turned his attention on getting to the safe zone, and making sure Gilag didn’t need any help. 

The druid seemed to be making his own way across well enough, watching for falling slabs and hustling aside as quickly as he could. For someone built like he was, it always amazed Alit to see how fast Gilag would move when he needed to. 

Mizael wasn’t any slouch at getting himself where he needed to be either, darting along with all the agility of a squirrel. Alit winced when one slab almost committed the same fatal sin that the dragon construct had, causing Mizael to lose some of his precious hair. If the ranger hadn’t moved forward in just the nick of time, he might well have been trapped there. 

Alit had never really approved of long hair himself, since that kind of thing was a liability in the arena. Giving one’s opponent something that made such a tempting grip would be foolishness. Mizael managed well enough, though. 

Something else caught his attention beyond that, though. Or two someone elses, in the interests of all accuracy. Ryouga and Durbe, moving in tandem with one another, as if they’d fought side by side all of their lives. They didn’t even need to look at each other, but leaped forward, landing together, rolling apart to avoid one of the slabs, and then back together again for a short run, leaping high to dodge yet another slab, side by side, back to back. 

_Maybe they have fought together all their lives._ Alit had seen teamwork like that on very few occasions, and those who managed it were frequently the deadliest of warriors. _Maybe there’s more to being a bard than I thought?_

Perhaps there was, but his main focus at the moment involved saving his own hide. Several feet away another rock slammed downward, and he leaped that way, landing on top of it, a faint grin teasing at his lips. He kind of wished he had more of an audience for this kind of thing. It reminded him so much of being home and having to put on the best show he could for those watching him. 

He leaped to another rock, tracking the falling stones. If only Leo could see him now... 

* * *

Ryouga didn’t bother to think. He could think another time, when he wasn’t running from collapsing masonry. There were only two things he needed to consider: how not to get smashed and how to get to the other side. 

Durbe was beside him; Rio was getting to safety on her own. Memories he had done his best to squash for five years flickered through the back of his mind and he pushed them all down. He didn’t need to think of that now. But now, just like then, Durbe stood by him, shield to Rio’s sword, as it had always been. 

“How much farther do we have to go?” he asked, knowing Durbe knew the answer even as he asked. 

“Not much. We’re nearly there.” Durbe’s breath came in quick pants. He was a well-trained warrior, but keeping his attention split between where they were going and the threat of rocks from above could sap anyone’s strength. Ryouga wished that there was time enough for Durbe to cast a protection spell of some kind, or teleport them to the far side where the others had begun to gather. But with all of this movement, there wasn’t any time for spellcasting. They just had to move. 

And move they did, racing side by side, weaving and dodging, breath catching in their throats, sweat trickling down Ryouga’s back to pool in the small of it, making him wish they could go back to that river so he could wash himself up as Mizael had. From the look of it, that was something they would all want before this was over with. 

Then it _was_ over; no more blocks fell and they stood beside the others. Ryouga drew in one breath and then another, filling his lungs as he hadn’t had a chance to in all of this. Then, before they could get distracted by anything else, he turned toward Vector, drawing himself up as tall as he could stand. 

“If you see any other traps or tricks or anything like that in this place, you will _tell us_. We could’ve all died here, and it would’ve been because of you.” 

Vector sniffed, head tilted back, and shrugged. “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t set the trap off.” His gaze slid over to Alit, who glared at him with fire enough to rival the demon. “You all saw how I moved through there. Did you think I was just trying to show off?” 

“Why wouldn’t you?” Alit growled. Ryouga shook his head. This was enough. 

“How do we get this door open now that we’re all here?” 

Vector turned to it and set his hand on one of the designs, pressing inward. “Like this.” 

Chains clinked and rattled, and the great door rose upward, revealing yet another room beyond, and together, they moved forward. 

**To Be Continued**


	10. Trust In Me

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 10: Trust In Me  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,630||story: 26,023  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

The first sign of trouble was when Mizael flickered out of sight. Vector, perhaps unsurprisingly, was the first to notice, his eyes narrowed and one hand resting quickly on the hilt of his sword. 

“Where did he go?” Dangerous eyes shifted around the area, as if the elf would reappear if Vector only looked in the right direction. Durbe had seen that same kind of look in other people, and he liked it no more now than he had then. 

“Mizael!” He hoped that whatever had caused the ranger to vanish would only be something visual, and he could still hear them. “Are you here? Can you hear me?” 

No answer came at all. Carefully the group moved forward, sticking closer together, as if that would prevent whatever happened to Mizael from happening to them. 

It didn’t work. Alit vanished between one breath and the next, and Vector was only a heartbeat or so behind him. 

Ryouga snarled under his breath when Rio disappeared, even as he reached for her sleeve to get her attention. 

“Maybe if I-“ Whatever Gilag might’ve wanted to try never was said, as air alone filled the space where he’d been only a moment earlier. 

Durbe knew well enough this had to be magic. It crackled in the air around them; it had been present ever since they entered this underground maze in the first place, but now it grew thicker and stronger. This was the next obstacle they needed to pass, but what _was_ it? 

“Something isn’t right.” He drew his staff closer to himself, trying to find the key in all of this. He had to do it; Ryouga knew a little of magic, as most bards did, but he hadn’t studied it the way that Durbe had. If anyone stood a chance at breaking this spell, it would be him. 

But he would have to find out what the spell was first. Nothing could be broken without understand it first. That was something his very first teacher had drilled into him all those years ago. 

“Ryouga, I-” Durbe turned as he spoke, and the words choked off when he realized that he stood in this strange featureless room alone. Either he’d been taken somewhere or Ryouga had, and he didn’t know which was which anymore. 

_Focus, Durbe!_ Durbe snapped to himself. Panicking would do nothing useful. He needed to think or they were all lost forever. 

Yes. It was all up to him. It wasn’t as if any of the others could do this. Magic would be the answer here, _wizard’s_ magic, not the spells of a cleric or a druid, linked to the natural world. Those had their place, of course, but not here and not now. Here was the place where the wizardry that came from research, information, and knowledge would thrive. 

A small smile played about his lips as he began to review the spells that would most likely work best here. Something for true sight, to see through whatever illusions might be hiding his companions from him? That sounded like a good way to begin. 

He focused his mind and spoke the spell, sensing its power wrapping all around him and then stretched out to fill the room. It wasn’t that large of a place, he felt, perhaps the size of a throne room for a medium sized country. He could’ve walked around it in a matter of minutes. And yet he was still the only one there. 

Then, the others weren’t here at all? Surely his magic would’ve revealed them if they were. Was teleportation involved? Surely something as simple as trapdoors couldn’t be used! 

He glanced down to check, though. The people who’d crafted this area were more than a little clever. He shouldn’t rule anything past them until he’d proven it completely to himself. 

If there were any trap doors, he couldn’t see them. He decided not to consider those an option as of yet. He moved forward, keeping his mage-tuned senses sharp, ready for anything that could attack. He was the only one there, he would fight it, whatever it was. 

“Durbe!” The mage-knight looked up quickly at the calling of his name and saw Alit there, fear written all over the gladiator’s features. “What’s going on? Where’s everyone else? Where did you all go?” 

Durbe’s eyes narrowed, hand falling to his sword-hilt. “What are you talking about?” Alit was one of those who’d vanished, _Durbe_ hadn’t vanished. “You should know that better than I do.” 

Alit eyed him, fists clenching and unclenching, distrust glimmering in his eyes. “What makes you think I’d know what was going on here?” 

“You vanished. Where did you go?” Durbe didn’t draw his blade yet, but he kept himself alert and ready to do so. He would have to strike quickly when he did. Alit was too fast; if he missed the first blow, he might not get another one. 

“I didn’t go anywhere. Mizael disappeared and then all the rest of you did, all at the same time. I’ve been trying to find you.” 

A lie. Durbe hissed softly under his breath. Even on their short acquaintance, he hadn’t thought that Alit would lie like this. He’d _thought_ they’d been growing closer, all of them. And yet here was Alit, trying to tell him something he knew with all of his heart wasn’t true. 

“Durbe, what is going on here?” Alit started to step toward him and froze when Durbe’s sword whistled out of its sheath and pointed toward his heart. “Durbe?” 

“We didn’t vanish, you did. And then the others.” Durbe ignored the sudden fluttering in the back of his mind, a strange sort of mental beating. He would deal with that later; the first order of business was to settle Alit. 

Alit’s gaze fell on the tip of the sword, and tension slowly bunched his shoulders as his fists clenched. “If this is what you want to do, then I’m all for it.” He swung and Durbe dodged back, quick to defend himself from those powerful fists. He hadn’t seen Alit fight another person before, but he could tell strength when he saw it, and he wasn’t inclined to get hit if he could avoid it. 

He slashed forward, and wasn’t surprised to see Alit roll out of the way, coming up lightly on his feet and sending a piledriver punch right toward him. He scrambled out of the way, slicing back toward his opponent, grazing just the tip of Alit’s shoulder. 

“Whoa, you’re good!” The gladiator grinned at him, barely seeming to notice the thin streak of red visible through his clothes. “I don’t get hit too much.” 

Durbe didn’t waste his time answering. Especially not since Gilag appeared beside Alit in the next breath. _Calling his allies…_ The thought whispered through his mind, slightly darker and more sinister than he was used to, but he paid that no mind. 

“Hey, Gilag, something’s wrong with Durbe! He thinks we’re the ones who vanished, when it was everyone else!” 

Fire raged through Durbe’s veins at those words. Something was wrong with _him_? When they were the ones not only deluded but possibly traitors as well? 

Bile surged up in the back of his throat at the thought. _Traitor_. He didn’t wait another moment, but surged forward, sword slashing at the two of them. Both dodged aside, one to the left, one to the right, and he slid for Gilag first, wanting the other magic-user out of the way so that he didn’t have to worry about spells being slung at his back. 

And Gilag would do that, no doubt at all. One could never entirely trust druids, something whispered in his mind. They never seemed fully able to commit to one side or the other. He’d even heard of evil druids, ones who twisted the power of their forests to serve their own ends, instead of serving the forest itself. 

Was that what Gilag really was? Was that the kind of power they’d welcomed among themselves, thinking him a worthy peer to Rio and her blessed gifts? 

No. No, Durbe would never let something like that happen again! He’d never let someone hurt the two he cared about more than anyone in all the world! 

The snarl that left his lips as he plunged toward Gilag was inhuman in all the worst ways. He might well have pierced the druid through the heart on the spot, had someone seized his arm. A swirl of blond hair told him who it was and he glared at Mizael in fury. 

“Let me go!” How could Mizael support actions like theirs? How could he stand alongside someone who would twist the natural world that he knew Mizael loved so much? Mizael, who …who hated humans. Who walked with them only out of a debt, and who would likely take any chance that he could to turn on them. 

“Durbe, have you gone mad?” The elf glowered down at him, unimpressed by Durbe’s fury. 

“I should ask you that! You and all the rest!” Durbe, normally calm and unruffled by everything, raged. He could see Vector standing just behind Mizael now, and he recognized the look of lust in those lavender eyes so easily. Vector wanted Mizael and there was so _much_ that he hadn’t told them all, and he’d even been willing to let them all die in that trap before the door… 

He needed to kill them all. That was the only way to get out of here safely. Only their blood would satisfy the spell. He could see that so _clearly_ now, and he wondered that he’d missed it before. 

He’d been blinded, he decided, in a cold clear part of his mind that he marveled he’d never used before. He’d thought the best of them, and that had been his downfall, or nearly so. But now he knew the truth, and he would not rest until they all fell and he could return to soar the skies safely with Mach. 

_Mach…_ The thought of his beloved Pegasus rippled through him and he jerked himself away from Mizael almost as an afterthought, shaking his head, which suddenly felt as if it were filled with cobwebs and dust. What was going on…what was he thinking… 

“Durbe!” Again his name was cried out and this time he looked up to see Rio standing there, eyes wide and full of a fear he could not name. For for him? Of him? 

Why would she be afraid of him? He’d never harmed her. He never would. Unless… 

They’d never known the true name of the traitor, or what he looked like. They even called him ‘he’ only out of convenience. The name they knew could’ve been a lie, and likely enough was. He did not want to think that she, of all people, could’ve turned on her brother, and it didn’t feel likely, not with how she’d left with him, but… 

But a deeper game could be played here than he knew, and he pointed his sword at her. “Come no closer.” He needed to think, to get all of this sorted out in his head, and he couldn’t do it with the way the other five of them crowded so close, all staring at him in varying degrees of confusion and anger. 

“Durbe?” The last voice, the one he’d somewhat expected, but now wasn’t certain if he wanted to hear, and it came from behind him. He turned with all caution, keeping the others in sight as he did. 

“Ryouga.” Another name almost rose to his lips but he refused it. He wouldn’t betray their secret, no matter what. He would die first. “They all…we can’t trust them. They…even…” In all of his life he’d never made less sense and it twisted something deep within him. 

Ryouga stepped toward him, understanding and compassion in his eyes. “Durbe, calm down. Put up your sword.” 

What? Would he…would Ryouga ask him to do that, when there was so much danger? When they could trust no one here? 

Was this really Ryouga? Was it an illusion? Or worse? Was Ryouga…had he… 

Durbe’s hand shook. He fought to keep the blade up, ready to attack at a moment’s notice. Ryouga continued to look at him, then slowly, ever so slowly, in a way that no one could mistake for a strike of battle, he slid the glove off of his right hand and held the palm up for Durbe to see. He could feel the whispers of curiosity and concern from the others, but for now, it made no difference. 

There, on Ryouga’s palm, a scar. Simply that and nothing more. But at the sight of it, Durbe slammed his sword down tip-first in the cracks between the stones beneath him. He drew the glove off his own right hand, staring down at the matching scar there, and memories stronger than magic flooded his mind. 

_“I can’t be your blood-brother! You’re a…and I’m a…” Durbe wanted to protest, but Ryouga wasn’t one to take no for an answer, not when it was something he wanted as much as he wanted this._

“I say that you can and you can’t tell me no, can you?” Ryouga grinned at him, and Durbe could only laugh and shake his head. Ryouga would get his way, no matter what. 

“All right, all right.” He drew out his knife, kept honed to a razor’s edge as all good warriors did, and set his jaw, cutting a line across his palm. Ryouga took the knife and did the same to himself, and the two of them shook hands, their blood mingling together in the age-old tradition. 

“Blood of yours, blood of mine, together as one, for all time.” The two recited the ancient oath of blood-binding in unison. It made them closer than brothers, all the legends said, and for Ryouga to do this with him when he had a sister he loved more than life itself… 

Durbe swore in his heart that he would trust Ryouga no matter what, from that day forward. Nothing could break that bond, no magic, no torture, nothing at all. It would last forever. 

Durbe’s breath whooshed out of him and he all but fell over. Footsteps pattered closer, and he shook his head. “No. Not yet.” It wasn’t over. He could feel it in the rage that still boiled under his skin for all the others, a rage that would soon stretch to them, if it hadn’t already, turning them against one another. 

It would not win. 

He picked up his staff from where he’d dropped it when he’d drawn his sword and pulled himself to his feet, using it for support. 

This would not happen. He would not allow it. He might not have the same bond with these new friends as he did with Ryouga and Rio, but he would not let the _chance_ be perverted before it could grow into anything more. 

With all of his strength, he smashed the butt of the staff downward, and spat out a single word, charged with all of his magic. It would take time to recover and he would be at a disadvantage in whatever battles were to come, but he took the chance. Only this spell could break the enchantment that held sway at the moment. 

“ _Counterspell_!” The spell of negation, the spell that broke all other spells, but only if enough power to do so burned within the mage casting it. At this moment, Durbe knew he could counter virtually anything. A snare meant to blind one’s reason and set friend against friend would be nothing. 

_Was_ nothing, as his counter rippled outward, and the chains of magic shattered. 

**To Be Continued**


	11. Regretting

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 11: Regretting  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,692||story: 28,715  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

From the moment Durbe’s staff hit the floor and magic burst out from it, no one had yet dared to say a word. No one could even be certain of what to say at all. Alit tried not to catch Gilag’s eye; Mizael could not bring himself to look at the twins or Durbe himself. 

“What was that?” Vector was the one who broke the uncomfortable silence, perhaps not so shockingly. 

Durbe drew in a breath and stood as upright as he could, still with the support of his staff. “A spell was woven into this place. None of us vanished at all. We couldn’t see or hear each other until the spell allowed it, and the more time that passed, the more we became unable to trust one another.” 

Vector blinked once or twice, almost opened his mouth, then clearly chose to remain silent, glancing for a moment toward Mizael. 

“How did you overcome it, then?” Gilag asked, a hint of professional curiosity in his tone. Durbe managed to smile just a fraction as he looked down at his hand. 

“Because there is no spell strong enough to turn me against my blood-brother. Such a thing cannot happen.” Durbe spoke as if Gilag had questioned the rising of the sun in the east or the reason that objects fell downward instead of upward. 

Silence reigned for a few seconds, until once again broken by Vector. “Well, this is very sweet and loving and I think my last meal is disagreeing with me, so can we get moving?” 

Ryouga shot a glance toward him, but said nothing else as he rested one hand on Durbe’s shoulder for a few seconds. “Let’s go.” 

Together the group moved on; the exit out of this room was a simple carved archway, not a door at all. Again a corridor led down to the next room, with torches that burned brilliantly lighting the way. 

“I’d almost forgotten that, you know,” Ryouga murmured to Durbe as they moved along. “The oath, I mean. It’s been so long.” 

Durbe chuckled a little, a weak sound but there all the same. “So had I. I’m glad you did remember.” He didn’t want to think about the consequences if he hadn’t. 

“You would’ve been all right. I trust you, Durbe.” Ryouga told him, and Durbe could feel more of his strength trickling back at that. Whatever the future held, it was something they could face as one. 

* * *

“I think when they get here, we should charge them for the services of a healer, because I think I’m going to need one.” Rikuo grumbled, glaring into the mirror that reflected the approaching heroes. “Why can’t they just kill things like normal heroes do?” 

Coyote found that he disliked these new arrivals more and more with each moment. Sure, they would be useful when a fight broke out, but before that? They had little sense, less manners, and stole all the food they could find. 

“I would imagine because there aren’t that many things to kill in between here and there,” he pointed out. “In fact, we are hiring you specifically so that they do have people to kill.” Namely, them, as opposed to Coyote, Wolf, and Jackal. Coyote would gladly watch the rest of them die while he and his comrades fled the scene. 

Since they’d hired this bunch to do exactly that, he looked forward to when it actually happened. 

“What is it you have against him, anyway?” Jackal wondered. “You’ve met before?” 

“You could say that,” Kaio said, lounging casually in one of the more comfortable chairs, a smug smile firmly on his lips. “We knew him a while back. Six, seven years ago, something like that. You really wouldn’t believe how different he was then. We were going to do a really big job together, when he chickened out, thanks to the other one there.” He flicked his fingers to the images in the screen, indicating first the bard and then the warrior-mage. “Never saw him again after that.” 

Jackal decided he’d heard about enough from these two and turned toward Wolf. “They’ve only got one more barrier to cross before they get here.” 

“I know. You don’t need to worry yourself, Jackal. Everything is in order.” From the slight edge to Wolf’s tone, he wasn’t especially pleased with something, and Jackal decided it would be better to back off, just in case. He didn’t want to make him angrier than he already was. 

Besides, the big show was about to start. They’d made their way through all the rest, but the last barrier wasn’t something they could fight their way through. Seeing if they figured out the key here would be worth watching. 

* * *

Mizael hung back in the group, not trusting himself yet to speak with any of them, let alone Durbe or Ryouga or Rio. The memory of the sharp, unthinking rage that boiled through him not all that long ago still seared through his mind. 

_What was I thinking?_ He knew it was a spell now, but that changed nothing. He’d still given thought, clear and definite thought, to killing all of them, without hesitation or regret. 

He knew why, too. They were humans. He had never fully liked or trusted humans to start with. Seeing Jinlong poisoned _because_ of humans hadn’t made him any happier about it. 

_I should know better. They weren’t the ones who did that. Rio was the one who healed Jinlong._

And yet the poisonous thoughts had crawled their way into his mind, wrapping their talons into him, sinking in deeply. 

_They only said they didn’t. She could’ve made the poison worse, made him sicken and die more now that you’re not there with him._

Jinlong still wasn’t completely well. His strength hadn’t recovered to the full measure he’d held beforehand, and it still cost him far too much to change form, one of the reasons he wasn’t with them now. 

And all of that had whispered into the deepest depths of Mizael’s mind in those horrifying minutes. He’d forgotten what he’d learned; that Durbe cared for creatures of the wild nearly as much as he did, in his own way, as shown by his bond to Mach, and more recently, he’d met Gilag, who walked in the ways of the woodlands much as he did. He was not alone in his care for creatures of the wild. 

“Mizael?” Vector again. Why did he continue to bother Mizael when Mizael had other thoughts to deal with? Such as how he’d nearly brought himself to killing the people who’d helped him when he could do nothing for Jinlong? 

“I’m busy.” He bit the words off and kept walking, ignoring the look Vector sent after him. Vector and his clumsy human attempts at courtship could wait for the time when Mizael wasn’t in the middle of an emotional crisis. 

* * *

Vector held back a snarl only because he didn’t want anyone else to see him doing so. Under other circumstances, he might well have abandoned his pursuit of Mizael for being rebuffed. But not only did he enjoy a challenge, but he didn’t like being rejected in the first place. He would find a way to fix that. 

_It’s the spell’s effect as well._ He hadn’t felt it very much himself, and he knew quite well why, but the rest of this motley group didn’t feel the same. 

That was part of why they’d been chosen, but it still produced an annoying inconvenience. One that he would deal with later, he decided. Right now, they’d almost finished the entire journey through the underground, and their goal lay within reach. 

He’d heard a few tales about what the last guardian would be, and while he knew no more than they did on how to get by it, he looked forward to seeing how they managed it. 

What came after that was what truly interested him, though. The thieves would not be likely to simply hand the treasure over with a profound apology for having taken Don Thousand’s possession and allow themselves to be taken into custody. There would be blood. People would die. Perhaps even some of the ones that he walked with now. 

Vector couldn’t remember having been this excited in quite a long time. 

* * *

Gilag could tell that each of them had their own problems to deal with because of that spell. Ponta remained firmly tucked in the crook of his neck, saying nothing at all, but providing his own warm reassurance. Gilag rubbed his tiny partner’s ears as he moved along, trying to focus on the present and future and not the past. 

Not the past as it had happened only a few years earlier, when instead of a druid, bound to the earth and companion to a magical creature he considered his best friend, he’d been a warrior. He’d led other warriors into battle, to a glorious victory each and every time. 

Until the last time, when his army had been outnumbered to a point that no amount of strategy could have won their way free, and when his enemy unleashed magic the likes he’d never seen on them. He’d nearly died that way. 

_Did he know? Did he do this on purpose?_ Every bit of information that Gilag had about the man who’d hired his army told him that he did. He didn’t know why; he’d never cared to follow up on the other after the disaster that was the ending of that last battle. But the man had never sent anyone to check for survivors. Gilag had been left for dead. If Ponta hadn’t found him, it would’ve been a complete kill. 

He’d thought that he’d gotten past it. That he didn’t care about any of it anymore. He’d found a new life, a better one, one where he could do more than simply kill people for the benefit of others. He loved being a druid, loved being able to bring life and healing to where it was needed. He’d even made a new friend, a real friend, someone who wasn’t impressed or intimidated by his strength. 

Gilag cast a quick look to Alit, who didn’t look as if he wanted to look at anyone at the moment, and wondered what was going on in his head. If that spell twisted friends into enemies and dug up all the worst thoughts one could have, then what would it do in his case? He knew Alit’s past, or what the ex-gladiator had told him of it at least. Pleasant thoughts could not be lurking there now. 

On his part, however, he knew it was better to move forward. Whatever his former employer had done, it had ended up well enough in Gilag’s case. If he ever met the man again, he’d likely have a few words for him, but right now, he wasn’t going to waste his time worrying about it. Not when his new friends could need him at any moment. 

* * *

No one seemed inclined to look at anyone right now, with the possible exception of Durbe, Ryouga, and Rio. Alit didn’t share that bond; he trudged along with his eyes downcast, only glancing up on rare occasions to make sure he wasn’t about to bump into a wall or anything. 

He’d hated Leo. 

For a few moments, or a lifetime, he wasn’t sure of which now, he’d hated Prince Leonius with every scrap of his soul. How _dare_ his prince not search harder for the true murderer? How _dare_ he not keep in better touch with Alit? 

His heart twisted in pain. When he’d first heard about this strange quest…well, the message to come meet the king of the Scarlet City came to the tavern near to Gilag’s home. Alit still didn’t know how anyone had known to send mail to either of them there. But there the message had been that day, and when he’d first heard the bartender telling him that there was one for him, his first thought-his only thought- had been _Finally! I’m going home!_

And then, instead of a message from his beloved prince, telling him that his name was cleared at last and he could return to where he belonged, he’d seen an invitation, not much short of a command, to present himself for a special mission. 

That was why he’d focused all of his attention on Durbe during that fight, such as it was. The thought of hating Leo made him sick to his stomach and he’d fought against it. Durbe was someone it was _safe_ to hate, because Durbe didn’t care about him. They barely knew each other. 

And then he’d seen Ryouga calm Durbe down, by nothing more than reminding him of their past together. 

_I don’t know if I want to smack them both or tell them not to forget how lucky they are._

The bond between them might not be the same kind that wound between him and Leo, but it was precious and should be protected all the same. 

* * *

The corridor widened into a larger room, with enough space for everyone to stand abreast. Ryouga took a look around, his attention caught almost at once by the tall statue to one side. There was little else here to attract attention, and based off what they’d seen in this place so far, he knew that meant this was where they needed to go. 

He walked over that way, tense and ready for the slightest bit of hint that battle would break out. The rest of the group followed, all of them almost eerily silent. After what happened in the other room, he expected little else. 

The thought of not trusting anyone who wasn’t Durbe or Rio wasn’t new to him. It was one he’d lived with for many years, ever since they’d begun this wandering life. It wasn’t something he felt the need to worry and fret about. They didn’t feel the same way, or so the tension that crackled and sparked in the air told him. 

At the moment, however, all of his attention focused on this statue. He didn’t recognize whoever it might be, but it was armed and armored as a warrior wielding sword and shield. Huge muscles of white stone shimmered in the torchlight, and the armor and weaponry seemed of the finest craftsmanship. 

While he didn’t recognize the person, the style of carving niggled at his mind. He’d picked up quite a bit of possibly useless and useful information in their travels; bards seemed to attract the type of person who wanted to babble on forever about anything, and he’d learned to listen, no matter how much he wanted people to be quiet around him. 

Yes…there’d been a warrior once, Ryouga remembered now, who had also been a magnificent carver in stone. 

“I think I know something about this,” he said, staring harder at the statue. He still couldn’t place the name, but bits and pieces of the tale were coming back to mind. 

“What is it?” Durbe asked, coming to stand beside him. “What do we have to worry about?” 

Ryouga managed a small flicker of amusement at that. “That I don’t know. But if I remember correctly, then this is a statue of a great warrior. Very few were ever able to defeat him in life.” His eyes narrowed as he stared harder at the statue. “I can’t remember how he died, though.” There had been something unusual about it, something that he’d always found interesting, but the memory flickered away. 

One by one the others came up, each looking at the statue, their own problems and worries set to the side for now. Ryouga still fought to find the last piece in his head, when something else drove the memory even deeper underground. 

A simple sound it was, but one that set them all on edge: the sound of stone creaking against stone, as the statue slowly lifted its blade, and a ripple of magical energy washed across it, pure white marble now replaced with living color. 

Living, and fighting, as the sword struck directly for Ryouga’s chest. 

**To Be Continued**


	12. Wrath of the Bard

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 12: Wrath of the Bard  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,604||story: 31,319  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

A statue. Seriously. A _statue_. Rio didn't know yet if she wanted to crush the stupid thing with a wave of water or just lean back and let her brother cut it apart. It wasn't as if he couldn't. It was a _statue_ , and no matter how magical it was, she trusted he would reduce it to a pile of rubble in the end. 

Not to mention the fact that she wasn't entirely certain of how much strength she had left herself, so washing it away in a magical wave might not be as possible as she hoped it would be. She'd used up much more of her strength against that demon than she genuinely felt like admitting, and they still weren't done with this quest yet. 

Whatever awaited them when they were all through these challenges, she still thought she'd be able to take them. If her magic failed her, well, she'd still be trained in the use of her staff as a weapon, and she knew quite a few places on the human body that would be vulnerable to a quick, hard hit with several inches of well-polished oak. 

If she needed to rest, and she believed that she did, then there were few better ways to do so than by sitting back and enjoying the show of her twin brother slicing a statue down and having himself a good time doing so. All that she really missed was a mug of hot tea and some sort of snack. 

_Maybe I should work on mastering that spell to create food and water._

She glanced over to Gilag, then moved over that way, tapping his hand to get his attention. 

“Do you think you could whip up something for us to snack on while my brother takes care of this? I think we could all use a bite anyway.” 

* * *

Ryouga paid only the smallest bit of attention to what his companions were doing as he dodged out of the way of the statue's sword. He almost didn't make it; the blade cut through the edge of his shirt, and he could feel the tip of it scraping against his skin. He wouldn't call it a wound; it likely didn't even bleed. But he needed to watch out, so the next time wasn't worse. 

He drew his own sword the moment he had enough space to do so, and managed to dodge out of the way of another strike, with enough speed and strength behind it to drive the tip of the blade into the stone floor beneath them. 

_Stupid statue. Guess that's what you get when you have rocks for brains._ He drove forward, sword held in both hands to put all of his strength into the blow, expecting the magical opponent he faced to not be able to move quickly enough to defend itself, much less pull the sword out of the ground in time. 

“Whoa!” The bard had to twist back to avoid getting a stone fist to the face, while the status's other hand pulled on the sword, easily drawing it forth. There were other words that floated behind his lips, but he preferred to deliver those when he didn't need to keep all of his breath and focus on fighting for his life. 

He backpedaled quickly, sweat already streaming down his cheeks and back. This wasn't the best situation he'd ever had for a fight, but he couldn't think of what else he could do. None of the others were in any shape to do anything after what they'd already gone through trying to get here. They had another battle awaiting them on the far side of this as well. They needed to rest, needed to get themselves together. He was the only one who hadn't had to do anything more strenous than jumping over a few rocks until now. So that meant he had to handle this. 

The statue moved every bit as quickly as any trained fighter he'd ever encountered. In fact, the statue could well have given many of them lessons. That was only proper, given the reputation of the warrior it represented. Ryouga wished he had more time to think about what he could remember about that fighter's last battle. If he could just _remember_ , he knew he could find a way to have the upper hand here. 

But with a sharp-edged blade slicing and chopping at him every few seconds, and an opponent who outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds or more driving it toward him, he had far too much on his mind to think about history. 

Spells. He knew spells; perhaps something in his repitore could help here. Unfortunately, magic needed a certain amount of time and focus to cast properly, and the statue warrior wasn't going to give him either of those for magic, anymore than he was going to get it for thinking about anything other than not getting himself sliced and diced. The idea of asking for a five minute break to bring magic to mind bought him only a faint hint of a smile and the crunch of his blade against the other's arm. 

The vibration ran up his own arm, setting his teeth to shuddering, and he stepped back, breathing harder. He wasn't completely out of breath yet, but this wasn't a fight like any he'd had before. The opponent didn't need to breathe. He did. If he thought the world was in any way fair, he would've complained about how unfair this was. 

Instead, he darted in forward, hoping to find something that resembled a weak point on this thing. For all intents and purposes, the stone creature looked human. If it weren't for the way his sword cracked against it, he would've thought otherwise. It moved like a human, it fought like a human, but it held the hardness and toughness of mountain stone. 

What part of his mind wasn't focused on finding a way to defeat this creature by main force whirled once more about the legend that he'd heard concerning it, which had to have included how the warrior was defeated in the first place. He'd probably sung the thing before, or heard it sung, but he couldn't remember. 

Another dodge. Another strike, one that went no further in finding a way to defeat the creature than all of the ones before it. Ryouga breathed harder, each breath a little more shallow than the last as he fought to get a good one. 

Another step back. Rocks and pebbles slid underneath his feet, and he had to work to keep his balance. Fighting to breathe, fighting to stand, fighting in general, all of it combined as the statue levied the heaviest, strongest blow yet at him, and this time his dodging wasn't as fast as it should've been, and his sword spun out of his hand, landing a good five or six feet away. 

He hadn't lost. He wasn't even close to ready to giving up yet. And still, the statue pointed the blade toward his throat and stared at him as if waiting for a surrender. 

Instead, he scrambled about himself for anything that could be a weapon. He knew he had a knife on him somewhere; maybe he could try throwing it. He wasn't as good at ranged weaponry as he perhaps should've been, but anything would do now. 

His fingers brushed across his lute strap and he hissed in annoyance; he didn't need to play music now. That he reserved for peaceful moments when he wasn't getting himself killed by magical statues and the like. He fumbled to undo it, wondering if he could throw the instrument at the statue and have that do something. 

The case slipped down as he worked it off, and the strings vibrated, sending a wash of melody through the air. It wasn't very loud, nor all that melodic, and it certainly wasn't in tune. Ryouga knew he could do a thousand times better if he had the time to try. 

And the moment the music sounded, the statue froze where it was, as if unable to move again. 

Ryouga managed to draw in a full on breath and stared, not entirely believing what he was looking at. Slowly, he reached to pick up the lute and slid it out of the case, touching the strings with the tips of his fingers, enough to send a more definite melody wafting outward. 

The statue didn't move. Ryouga frowned and pulled himself to his feet, careful to hold the lute so that it didn't make any noise at all. Now the statue began to straighten up, sword aimed toward the bard once again. 

_Oh, no, you don't!_ He pulled the lute closer and began to play, focusing on the music instead of on fleeing or fighting. Now he began to remember, a task made much easier when he wasn't trying to run for his life. The warrior this statue represented had fallen prey to a group of evil sirens who'd enchanted him with their magical music. 

_He always liked music and they knew that. So they enspelled him with his greatest weakness._ And the statue reflected what had happened. 

He kept on playing, adding in vocals as he did, backing up more and more. The statue didn't move no matter how far back he strayed, save to continue to stare at him. The stone eyes remained on him, and if he hadn't known better, he would've thought there was some kind of emotion in them, something very much like regret. 

Ryouga didn't like the idea of luring the statue in with music like those sirens. But right now, he knew there wasn't any other way to handle this. He couldn't fight the warrior to death, and none of his spells would do any good. What he needed was his music. So he played, played until the statue finally began to move, returning to the pedestal where it had stood when they entered, and the color fled from it, returning to the same gray stone it had been. 

His shoulders slumped, his heart pounding and fingers aching from using sword and lute so close to one another. He wanted to rest more than anything else, and knew that there just wasn't any time left for that. 

A warm, familiar hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up into Durbe's eyes, Rio a few steps behind him. 

“I don't think I've ever heard of someone defeating a magical construct by music,” the mage-knight said, one corner of his mouth twitching upward as he spoke. “You should write a song about this.” 

Ryouga could feel his own lips twitching at that. “Did you actually just say that?” 

“Someone had to,” Durbe said with a shrug and amusement clear in his eyes as well. 

Slowly Ryouga pushed himself to his feet. His stomach rumbled; he'd put in a long day even before he'd had to run around fighting a statue and then sing it to death. Before he could voice any request for food, a beefy hand extended itself in front of him, holding a long green leaf on which several vegetables and fruits had been arranged. Rio joined a hand to Gilag's, and in hers there was a carved stone cup, full to the brim with water. 

“We already ate,” she said brightly as he accepted both offerings, draining the cup dry and watching as it refilled itself. He'd always liked Rio's trick for doing that. It made quenching one's thirst that much easier when the cup would refill until you weren't thirst anymore. 

“Thanks,” he said in between bites, wolfing down everything as quickly as he could. The food restored some of his strength, enough so that he could take a better look around. Now he could see another door in the distance, and that meant one thing: the way out. 

He jerked his head that way. “How close do you think we are to finding them?” 

Vector tilted his head in thought. “Very close. If they can see us in any way, they're probably getting nervous.” His lips twitched upward. “I hope they're getting _very_ nervous.” 

Ryouga wasn't going to argue about that. He wanted them nervous as well. It would make for a much better fight in their favor if their opponents were as upset as possible. 

Which did mean if their opponents had any idea of how close they were, and if they were anything like actual fighters or adventurers, people who had experience with this kind of thing, they would do _something_ to resist them. The options for what that might be were too many to even consider. The best they could hope for was that they would at least try to make a stand and not run for the nearest exit, keeping the treasure with them. 

He finished up his meal and stretched, still sore in more places than he actually wanted to think about. Everyone else looked better than they had before he'd gotten into his battle, which definitely improved matters in his opinion. 

“Does anyone need to rest to recover their spells?” He hadn't used any of his, which put him one up one anyone else who did. “Or just rest in general?” 

Gilag and Rio both raised their hands; he knew from experience with his twin that she would need some time to recover everything that she'd used up during their trip here. She'd recovered from her battle against the demon to some degree, but the more rest they all had, the better. 

“All right. We'll rest only as much as we need to, but then we finish this.” He glanced at the door, itching to go through it and end everything now. But he'd learned long ago the best way to end a fight was to have one's own side at the peak while the enemy was at their lowest. And while he couldn't guarantee their opponents were at the lowest, he could at least make certain they were at their peak. 

One by one they all settled down; it was warm enough in this chamber for no one to need to light a fire. Which was just as well, since there wasn't anything around for anyone to set fire too anyway. The torches, much like all of those that they'd seen in other rooms, still burned, giving off just enough light for them all to see by. If it weren't for the superior senses of Mizael (who would never had forgiven himself if anyone had passed by without him noticing it) and Ponta (who would never have forgiven himself if someone not in the group had passed by and he hadn't played some kind of a prank on them), he wouldn't have been quite so willing to get some rest. 

But those senses were there, and one by one, each of the adventurers began to drop off into a deep, restful sleep, knowing as they did that this would be the last time they could do so until after they'd accomplished their mission. 

Vector was the last to let himself fall into slumber, having settled himself between Mizael and Durbe. He spent a few moments gazing across the way toward the door himself, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. He looked forward to finishing this up in a few short hours. Once their total mission was over, he could keep going on the one that was closest to his own heart. 

And that one didn't require everyone he was with making it through the mission. 

**To Be Continued**


	13. Under Cover of Shadow

**Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 13: Under Cover of Shadow  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,612||story: 33,931  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins.

* * *

"They're asleep." Disbelief colored Coyote's voice as he stared into the mirror showing their enemies. "They're barely two doors away and they're _taking a nap_." 

Wolf ran his fingers over a dark gemstone that hung around his neck, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "We shouldn't take this for granted." 

"For granted?" Jackal spat the words out, fists clenching. "It's an insult! We need to do something about this!" 

Wolf smiled, teeth showing as he did. "And we will. They shouldn't have let their guard down." He lifted his head, looking over to where Kaio and Rikuo sat, their own fighters ranged behind them in a quiet, menacing pack. "That's what we hired them for anyway, wasn't it?" 

Jackal and Coyote fell silent as Wolf gestured to the newer arrivals. Rikuo strolled over, throwing himself down onto one of the available couches. 

"What is it you want? And if it's more than what we've already bargained for, I want extra." 

Coyote breathed harder, but Wolf gestured him to silence, leaning forward as he did. "How many of your people are any good at killing sleeping people?" 

"All of us," Rikuo replied, head lifted high in pride. "Why, are there sleeping people you need killed?" 

Wolf gestured toward the enchanted mirror. "Them. They made the mistake of choosing to rest before pushing onward, and I see no reason to waste an opportunity." 

Rikuo twisted around until he had a good look at the mirror, tapping one of the daggers at his waist absently. "You want me to send a couple of my men in there just to stab them while they're asleep? No real fighting? Just stab and go?" 

"That's right," Wolf said, nodding as he did. "And you'll still get all of your money. You have nothing to fear on that. We didn't take into account they might sleep...and sleep unguarded at that." He shook his head in disbelief. He'd really thought better of his enemies than that. 

Though the more he considered it, the more he wondered just how careless they actually were. Could they have done this as a trap? 

If it were, then he had no intentions of triggering it himself. That was what he paid other people to do. 

Rikuo snapped his fingers, and four of his people hurried over, silent and obedient. "You guys need to go kill them," he said, gesturing to the people shown in the mirror before he looked at Wolf. "Show them how to get there. Then we can get this done." A dark smile slashed across his features. "Only thing I don't like about this is that I kinda wanted to take him out myself." 

He jerked one thumb toward the slumbering bard. "It would've been a lot of fun to see him squirming on my knife." 

"If you want to go yourself, you're perfectly welcome to do so," Wolf suggested. It wasn't as if he would miss Rikuo if anything went wrong. 

Unfortunately, Rikuo shook his head. "This isn't worth the trouble. Wake him up and all the rest are going to wake up too." 

"Too bad we don't have anyone who can use a sleep spell," Kaio said, picking at his fingernails with a small knife. "Then we could make certain they won't wake up and take him with us to have a _private_ chat." 

Coyote snorted, reaching over to tap one fingernail on the mirror to where the ranger slept. "Elf. They don't sleep like humans and they're not affected by sleeping magic either. You should take him out first just to make sure he doesn't raise the alarm." 

"If you're quite done telling us how to do our jobs?" Rikuo glared at him before waving one hand at the chosen group again. "Or you could be useful and tell them how to get there." 

If it weren't for Wolf's quieting hand, Coyote would've opened Rikuo's insides to the outside. As it was, a slender dagger flew from his fingertips anyway, grazing the mercenary's cheek, a thin trail of blood slipping down. 

"You work for _us_ , remember? If you want to get paid, you might want to keep that in mind." Coyote didn't raise his voice. As far as he was concerned, if they killed off all of Kaio and Rikuo's mercenaries, then that meant not only more money for them to spend, but less annoying people in the world. That would always be a plus for him. 

Rikuo traced where the dagger flew by, his free hand starting to drop down, before Wolf stood up in between them. 

"Enough." He gestured toward one of the doors hidden in the surrounding shadows. "Go that way, through two rooms, and you'll find them. The traps aren't set to activate for anyone coming from this direction so you'll be safe." 

Glad to get away from a potential bloodbath, the chosen mercenaries hurried off, none of them daring to say a word while still around their leaders. 

Wolf gestured Coyote back down, but the other only snorted, going around to pick up his dagger from where it had fallen. He would've preferred it if it had ended up in the wall, since that would've been far more dramatic, but the room was just a little too wide for that. He would make do with what he had. 

He could still feel Rikuo's eyes on him, and Kaio wasn't happy either. He cared slightly more about the pleasure of random fools he'd never met than he did about what they thought of him. 

_They're just here to be meatwalls between us and that pack of so-called heroes. I think I kind of want that bard to win if they ever do get in a fight._ He'd seen the musician unleashing his skills on the enchanted statue. For all of Rikuo's strength, he thought this Ryouga might be able to take him. It would be interesting to watch, nevertheless. 

Speaking of things to watch, he started to look around to see if they had any good wine left. He wanted to have a good view of this attack, no matter how it ended up. 

"Wolf." Rikuo turned toward the Fallguys leader, a sudden suspicion darkening his eyes. "I noticed something about what you said just now." 

Wolf made a noncommital noise as he settled himself back into his favored resting place. Rikuo took a step closer to him. 

"You told my people that the traps won't activate for someone going out. But what are they going to do about coming back?" 

Wolf blinked once or twice, the corners of his mouth turning upward into something that wasn't entirely a smile. "Really? Did I do that? I suppose that was careless of me." 

Rikuo didn't move. He did continue to stare, however. "You sent them out there to get killed no matter what, didn't you?" 

The Fallguys leader tapped one finger on the side of his face, eyes flicking over to Coyote and Jackal. Both of them were having tremendous difficulty in keeping straight faces. Coyote wasn't even bothering to try that hard. 

"So what if I did? Does it bother you that much?" 

Rikuo and Kaio exchanged a quick pair of glances, then Rikuo shrugged. "Not especially." 

Wolf chuckled under his breath before he turned his full attention to the mirror. 

* * *

One by one the warriors under Rikuo and Kaio's command crept their way through the corridors and rooms, trying not to pay that much attention to what lay in wait around them. True to Wolf's word, nothing activated as they moved along toward the room their targets slept in. That it might be different on the way back didn't cross anyone's mind. There was too much to think about when it came to the not-fight they had planned already. 

The door to the last room creaked open and the first of them peeked inside. The group of heroes rested in a circle, none of them looking that alert, not even the elf. His back was to them, covered in sturdy armor, but as vulnerable to a sharp blade or arrow as anyone else, if the right area could be struck. 

None of the group spoke out loud, gesturing to one another in a sign language long since worked out between those of the mercenary band. There were four of them and seven of the heroes, but none of them considered themselves outnumbered. It would only take a few moments to cut them all down, and then return for their reward. 

Only one of them came armed with a crossbow and she loaded it carefully, taking time to make certain that she made no noise whatsoever. The other three spread out, knives and swords at the ready to attack the moment the elf fell over dead. The crossbow wielder aimed carefully, targeting the point where the armor met the neck. It wasn't an easy spot to hit normally, but since the elf wouldn't be trying to get away, she thought he could make it. 

Carefully she squeezed the trigger, confident that this would spell the beginning of the end. 

A heartbeat before the bolt would've pierced the elf's neck, the ginger-haired warrior next to him snapped his hand out and seized the bolt in one hand. He snapped it between his fingers before his other hand flickered up from his belt and something small and sharp flew through the air toward the hidden warrior. 

The woman didn't have time to realize what it was before everything went black and she fell backwards, knowing no more. 

The other three started to move, but the ginger moved even faster, sending a small glass vial to shatter at their feet. Some kind of gray fog poured out, and every breath they took sent racking coughs throughout their bodies. As easy as it might be to target sleeping people, it was much, much harder to do so when one couldn't draw a complete breath. 

Another pair of knives flew outward from the ginger's hands, meeting throat and stomach in their targets. He stalked his way over to the third, who kept on coughing and gasping for breath. 

"I was trying to sleep." A sword gleamed bright in his hands as he stared at the last of the would-be assassins. "And you woke me up." 

Perhaps the assassin thought he might be spared if he could explain, or at least get a word in edgewise. He at last tried to say something, one hand clutching at his throat in vain. 

"And you just don't know how to keep quiet, either." One single swipe of the sword was all it took to silence the intruder once and for all. 

* * *

Vector watched blandly as the attacker's head bounced off into the shadows, then took the time to clean his sword and go retrieve his daggers from the other intruders. As much as he would've preferred that this all be dealt with quickly and quietly, everyone else began to wake up by now, various noises of confusion echoing around. 

"What happened?" Durbe wanted to know, making the first clear and intelligent question since they'd all begun to open their eyes. 

"The Fallguys sent a group of idiots to attack us while we were asleep," Vector reported, sliding his sword back into the sheath. "I took care of it." 

Mizael glanced at him, then at the bodies scattered around, before looking back at Vector. "Four of them?" Was that admiration in his tone? Vector liked to think that it was. It should be, anyway. 

"It wasn't that impressive." He brushed it off a little. "They weren't expecting anyone to be awake." 

Ryouga frowned, rising to his feet and brushing cave dust off of himself. "Someone should've been. We weren't thinking." 

Rio rested a hand on his shoulder. "We were too tired to think about it." For all of her words of forgiveness, she sounded as bothered by this as he did. Vector mentally rolled his eyes. This had better not get too cloying for him again. 

"It won't happen again," Ryouga said, looking around at them all. "We set a watch, no matter what." 

"You say that like we're going to need to," Vector said. "This is supposed to be a one-time mission together, remember?" 

Silence fell between the seven as they began to exchange uneasy, curious glances. Vector knew he was right: and knew that he knew something they didn't. 

Gilag broke the silence. "We should finish this. If they've sent people out to kill us, we're closer than they want us to be." 

"He's right," Alit agreed, stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders. "The sooner we get this done, the better." 

If anyone had a breath of an argument, they kept it to themselves. They also kept it to themselves when Vector casually searched through the pockets of the four warriors he'd killed and pocketed a few odds, ends, and coins. Not everyone searched the dead, but since he'd finished them himself, there was an unspoken agreement that he had the right to do so if he wanted. 

* * *

"Who _is_ that?" Rikuo growled out the words, staring at the annoying fighter who'd taken out his people in just a few minutes. He'd never seen someone strike that hard or that fast before, not even Ryouga. Training like that could only come from the very highest of ranks. 

"Some sort of guide for them is all we know," Wolf said, his attention resting still on the mirror. "But he's clearly a skilled fighter as well." 

"Then we need to make certain to take him out as soon as possible," Kaio suggested. "Him, the bard, the knight, gladiator, and the ranger." 

Coyote rolled his eyes. "There are only seven of them. Why bother putting them on any list. Just kill them all and be done with it." He knew he could've defeated any of them without that much effort. They were all making mountains out of molehills. As good as they all were, a few knives to the back would take care of them all. The trick was just to make certain they were distracted by something coming from the front. 

Just as well; it would mean that the rest of the crew here would have something to do. It would give them less to complain about as well. 

"They're coming this way. Just another couple of rooms and we face them ourselves." Wolf traced one finger over his pendant once more. Jackal wondered when he'd picked that up; he didn't remember seeing it before. No matter; they'd all seen and taken trinkets they'd liked before, and Wolf had probably just snatched it off someone while they were visiting the city. He'd lifted a few purses while he was there himself. It was always a good idea to keep spare change around in his opinion. 

"Seven of them versus all of us." Rikuo gestured at the group that filled the room. "They don't stand a chance." 

"Are we going to fight them in here?" Kaio wanted to know. "It could be a little crowded." 

Wolf shook his head. "We have a place ready to meet them. And a few tricks that they're not going to expect at all." He, Coyote, and Jackal all glanced at one another. Their meat shields would be useful, but all three of them fully expected to finish off their seven enemies personally in the end. Kaio, Rikuo, and their mercenaries were little more than tools to wear the heroes out with. 

Just like everything else that waited in those rooms between the heroes and their target. 

What a wonderful day this would be. 

**To Be Continued**


	14. Opening a Box

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 14: Opening A Box  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,629||story: 36,560  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

“This is it,” Alit said, eyeing the door in front of them. There hadn't been anything in the rooms between the one where they'd rested and here and tension ran high in all of them. He clenched his fists, ready to knock this door down if necessary. “So now what?” 

“Now we get in there, kill anyone who resists, and take back what they stole,” Vector explained, one side of his mouth quirking upward. “I think this was explained before we came down here, wasn't it?” 

He ignored the look Alit sent him in favor of staring at the door harder himself. “But I believe the real question is how do we get in here?” 

“Perhaps try the door?” Durbe suggested, taking a careful look at it as well. 

“Do you really think that's going to work?” Vector scoffed. “What kind of idiots would leave the door open?” 

Durbe shrugged, made certain his gauntlet was on tightly enough to protect him from any hidden needles, and reached out to open the door. “Perhaps these idiots?” He asked as the door slid open. “Who would like to go first?” 

Quick and wary looks flew among the group, until Vector muttered something unsanitary under his breath and stalked through it after little more than a glance around the doorway to check for any sort of booby-traps. 

“Come on in,” he said from the other side, sounding far more annoyed than anything else. “It's empty. Except for that.” 

'That', they discovered when they carefully joined him, each one wary for any kind of sudden attack, was a black box resting on a white marble pedestal, with a glimmering circle of pale blue light all around it. Carved with intricate symbols and designs, the box drew the eye of everyone who entered the room, crafted of all manner of dark woods and stones, set with black gems of every kind. 

Alit shook his head at the sight of it. “What is this supposed to be again?” 

“The Great Sacred Treasure of Kuragari. All manner of dark sorcerers live there, and rumor has it the royal family has many items of great power in their possession.” Vector's lip curled faintly as he eyed the box. “This is supposed to be one of them.” 

“A box?” Gilag tilted his head, one hand rubbing on Ponta's ears as he did. “It's very well made, but a _box_?” 

Vector rolled his eyes. “No, not the box. The treasure is inside the box. The box is just there to protect everyone else from it. It's said that the Great Sacred Treasure can seduce the mind of anyone who sees it, making them want to do anything at all to keep it for themselves. Only the royal family is immune to it. It's one of the reasons they're paying so much to get it back. They protect the world from it, or so the stories about it go.” From Vector's tone, he didn't believe a word of those tales. 

Ryouga's eyes narrowed as he stared at the box as well. “I've heard of this treasure. It's too priceless for words. They have some of the best sorcerers and most powerful monsters defending it. How could anyone have stolen it in the first place?” 

“Don't ask me, I wasn't there.” Vector shrugged. “Are we going to go get that or not?” 

Durbe raised one hand even as Alit started over toward it. “There's magic there protecting it. We need to get that out of the way first.” 

“Well, do it!” Alit grumped. “I need some fresh air and the sooner we get out of here, the better.” 

Ryouga glanced over them all. “I think everyone who knows anything about magic should take a look at this. I don't know what they used to protect it and we can't take chances.” 

Alit growled and pushed past them all to stalk over to where the box rested under the light. “You all talk too much.” He pulled back one fist as high as he could raise it. “This'll get through anything they did to it.” 

“Alit, I don't think you should -” Rio's attempt to stop him was drowned out by Alit's fist piledriving toward the box, and the thunderclap as he was knocked backwards into the nearest wall. The box remained just as it was, not so much as a single splinter or stone harmed on it. 

Alit, on the other hand, groaned; he hadn't had so much as a moment to recover himself enough to land on his feet. He scrambled up slowly, shaking his head, trying to see straight again. “What happened?” 

“You tried to punch something protected by powerful magic,” Mizael told him, a hint of dry mockery in his tone. Vector tried to stifle a snicker at that. 

Let it be said that he did not try very hard. 

Alit ignored both of them, brushing himself off and glaring at the box as if considering the option of 'hit it again, but harder this time'. “So now what?” 

“Like I said the first time, those of us who know something about magic can try this.” Ryouga glanced toward Mizael and the two of them stepped toward the box. 

Exactly what they did Alit couldn't have said, since he didn't have the first clue about how magic worked. He kept himself occupied by making certain he hadn't broken anything important and waving off Gilag, who would likely need all of his strength in order to take his turn on the box sooner or later. He also made a point of ignoring Vector, which was much easier than usual since their supposed guide paid more attention now to what the magic users were doing. 

* * *

Ryouga had spent enough time wandering the world and picking up little bits and dribbles of magic to figure out a few things about this box and the spells protecting it: they were powerful and neither he nor Mizael stood a candle's chance in the ocean of being able to break so much as one of them. He didn't think they could so much as bend one, for all of that. 

Neither Alit nor Vector would be any good here, either. Alit had proven that rather spectacularly for himself, and Vector knew nothing of magic from what he'd said and they'd seen. Which left Durbe, Rio, and Gilag to work it all out. 

“It's up to you three,” he said, gesturing to those. “Don't get us killed.” 

“I can't make any promises,” Rio replied with a twitch of her lips. “But we'll try.” 

The three of them moved more closely around the box, murmuring to one another as they did. Ryouga couldn't hear them and didn't try. He'd only get confused; he understood fighting and music and other subjects that he'd had to learn long ago, but when it came to magecraft, Rio outstripped him in every single particular. So did Durbe, for that matter, and it looked as if Gilag was much the same, for all that he looked as if his only purpose in existing was to punch whatever stood in his way. 

“There are at least three different protection spells woven around the box,” Rio reported after several quiet minutes of discussion. “That isn't the worst of it.” 

“What is?” Ryouga wanted to know. 

“The way they're tied together is designed to cause an explosion if they're reversed, broken, or unwound in the wrong order,” Gilag said, wiping his forehead. 

“What kind of explosion?” Alit wondered, eyeing the box warily. As much as he disliked it, he did rather respect something that could hit him harder than he hit it. 

“The kind where there wouldn't be anything left of us, this cave system, and probably the outer limits of the Scarlet City as well,” Durbe answered. 

Silence fell. It was broken by Vector, a worried tilt to his head. “Can you do it _right_?" 

None of the three answered at first, glancing at one another. Durbe finally said it. “It's possible. It might take some time, but it's possible.” 

“Well, then, you'd better get to it, hadn't you?” Vector flicked one hand toward the box. “It's not getting undone by you standing here.” 

Ryouga shot Vector a harsh look that he ignored, then turned back to the magic users. “Do you need anything?” 

“We should be able to manage it. We'll just have to be careful,” Durbe said with a reassuring smile. The three converged once more around the box and got down to serious magic, lights and soft sounds weaving around them, Rio brandishing her staff on occasion, and Durbe doing the same to his. Once or twice they even crossed staffs, chanting with Gilag in a language that none of the others there could understand more than the barest few words of. 

* * *

Vector kept his arms crossed over his chest, staring at all of these shenanigans. This was part of the reason the others were here in the first place, to do the tasks that he couldn't, which involved almost anything to do with magic. He didn't know offhand if any of his talismans would work against the magical protections, but he did know he didn't want to waste any of them. Not when he might find a use for them later for himself. 

This still didn't sit well with him. Something was off somewhere about all of this and it worried him. He loosened his sword in its sheath; if there was going to be trouble, he wanted to be ready to deal with it, and with these guys around, the best way to deal with it would more than likely be a lot of violence. 

Which he didn't especially object to. He just was better at violence he could control at the levels of chaos that he preferred. Levels of chaos outside of his preference were too annoying and too likely to go wrong in ways that he didn't like. 

Which brought him right back to this whole situation and how too much was going on that he didn't have full information on, and that did _not_ set right with him _at all_. 

But he would survive it. Vector survived everything; that was what he did. And he'd do more than survive: he would come out on top and rise even higher. That had been part of his plan for years, and nothing at all had happened to slow him down. 

A tension that he hadn't even noticed in the room eased suddenly, and the candles gleaming in their scones burned brighter without warning. 

“We did it,” Rio said, drooping and catching herself on the edge of the table the box rested on. “Who wants to open the box?” 

Vector took two steps forward and snatched it up. Don Thousand had entrusted this mission to him and he wouldn't let anyone else take it from him. 

* * *

“Are you ready?” 

Swords and axes were sharpened. Bows and crossbows were made ready. Spells were prepared and held ready until the most advantageous moment. 

“We're ready. This won't take long at all.” 

“If you're wrong, I'm going to laugh at you.” 

“If we're wrong, we're all going to be dead.” 

“I'll laugh at you anyway. What have I got to lose?” 

“Enough. Let's go.” 

* * *

Ryouga rolled his eyes as Vector began to open the box. Sure, he worked more directly for the king of Scarlet City than they did, but he could be _so_ ridiculous about this. 

Vector yanked the box open and stared down into it for only a few seconds before he threw it across the room with a blisteringly vile oath. 

“It's empty!” Those were the only two words that made complete sense at the moment, and all seven of them stared after the box. 

“A trick,” Mizael spat out quite nearly as angrily as Vector. “They knew we'd spend time on the box and they could escape with the real treasure.” 

“Oh, we didn't really escape,” a new voice spoke from a short distance away. All of them looked up to see a slowly growing group of people, most of them armed and armored and complete with large amounts of muscle. “But we do have the treasure where you'll never find it.” 

Vector's eyes narrowed as he looked this new person up and down. “You would be Wolf, then. Leader of the Fallguys.” 

“You are correct,” the newcomer nodded, bending his head a bit as he gestured to his two closest companions. “Jackal and Coyote. And our other allies-” 

“Kaio and Rikuo.” Ryouga spat the two words out, staring at the mercenary leaders balefully. “I didn't think even you two could sink this low.” 

“I was about to say the same thing to you!” Rikuo laughed, sword pointed at the young bard. “Really, how much lower could _you_ get?” 

Ryouga's sword was in his hands a moment later. “Doesn't matter how low I go, because I'm always who I am.” 

“I bet you could make a song about that, couldn't you? Such a pretty little tale it is, isn't it?” Rikuo sneered. “The fall of a kingdom, and the two-” 

Ryouga surged forward, sword slapping at Rikuo's, not giving him another moment to finish what he'd been saying. He didn't bother with a battle cry but struck again and again, all of his wiry strength coming to bear. He wasn't going to let this fool continue to spew his lies and give anyone else any ideas about his past. None of them needed to know it except the ones who already did. 

Plus, he just didn't _like_ Rikuo in the first place. It felt amazingly good to make him shut up. 

A short distance away he could see Kaio fighting Durbe, and not having anywhere near the luck that Rikuo was having against him. 

All around them the mercenaries that worked for Rikuo and Kaio surged, with the Fallguys having worked their way to the back so they could watch the show. None of them looked especially interested in bringing their weapons to bear right now. Ryouga wasn't going to argue; they had enough they could handle at the moment being outnumbered loosely three or four to one. He hadn't bothered yet to do a headcount so wasn't sure beyond that. 

Besides, headcounts were so much easier to do when none of your enemies were trying to kill you. 

He parried one of Rikuo's blows, then another, and darted around to slam the palm of his hand against Rikuo's stomach. The other wore armor, of course, but it was boiled leather, and while it was very protective, Rikuo still stumbled back from the strike. 

“They don't know about you, do they?” Rikuo gasped, trying to keep his sword up as Ryouga stalked closer to him. “Well, _those two_ do,” he jerked his head toward Durbe and Rio, “but these others? No idea at all about who you are, _Your Highness_.” 

Ryouga smiled, his teeth gleaming bright in the candlelight. “What they don't know isn't your problem.” He pulled his sword back, and Rikuo drove his toward his momentarily unprotected chest, a blow that would've killed a normal man. 

Ryouga wasn't a normal man by any definition of the word. He slid around the oncoming blade as if his own body were made of water, and plunged his sword into Rikuo's chest, powering through the armor with all of his strength behind the blow. 

“You have no idea of how long I've wanted to do that,” Ryouga muttered. Rikuo said nothing, his eyes wide, sword clattering out of his stiffening hand. Ryouga pulled his sword out and wiped it clean on the dead man's clothes before he turned back to the battle raging. 

Time to get to work. 

**To Be Continued**


	15. Battle Phase One

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 15: Battle Phase One  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,616||story: 39,176  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

Alit had many skills. Math wasn't one of those he preferred to utilize the most, but he could solve this equation very easily. Lots of large burly types in armor and with weapons, all of whom wanted to do all kinds of incredibly painful acts to himself and his new friends. 

Add him into the mixture and they would all go down hard. 

He cracked his knuckles and tossed his cape over one shoulder, eyeing the biggest and burliest of them all, the one who stood at the head of the group. 

“You,” he said, pointing at that one. “You're the one that I want first.” 

Apparently the other agreed, since he raised a thick iron wrapped club, bellowed something that Alit couldn't understand, and charged towards him. 

“You'd do really well in the arena, you know,” Alit said, dodging out of the way. There wasn't as much room as he would've liked here, to really show off what he could do, much less to move away from the one trying to smash his brains out. But Alit always did the best that he could, no matter what. 

The other said nothing in response, at least nothing coherent, just another howl that seemed more like the reaction of a rabid beast than an actual fighter. This wasn't even close to the first time Alit fought someone who didn't want to verbally spar with him. He never did like those fights. A battle could be waged with one's tongue as well as it could be with any other weapon. 

Leonius had been extremely skilled with his tongue. 

_Focus, Alit!_ The gladiator reminded himself. He ducked and dodged underneath blows powerful enough to slam holes three inches deep in solid stone, hissing when one such hit sent a chip of rock flying past him, cutting against his cheek. 

“Watch where you're putting that!” This was one advantage the arena had over battlefields like this; long spreads of sand that could soak up injuries as well as make certain nowhere near as many were caused. 

Well, if the ground itself was going to fight against him, then Alit wasn't going to let it throw pieces of itself at him. He wasn't sure of how much sense that made, but he cared even less, and focused on getting himself into position to do what he needed to do. 

The warrior surged closer to him, raising his club once more, and Alit could see two others behind him, probably trying to get in a few hits where they thought he wouldn't notice. As if. He'd fought groups before and he knew how to keep his eyes on more than one person. 

Besides, from the way they'd positioned themselves, they weren't all that great at fighting as a group anyway, which gave him a distinct advantage. He dodged and wiggled, leaped up as high as he could, and landed in the exact center of their poorly defined group. 

“Hi!” He grinned and waved, fists at the ready, even as all three of them turned to look at him. “Sorry, I can't really stick around.” 

He waited only long enough for all three of them to move in on him, club and sword and mace raised up and just starting to strike downward. Then, slicker than as if he'd been greased, he found a small hole in their gathering, and wormed his way through, arching back over a heartbeat later. 

“But you can wait around for me, can't you?” He didn't give them time to answer. He didn't even give them time to think. Instead, he simply smashed their heads together with all of his strength, and knocked them into the nearest corner. 

“Well, that was fun,” he grinned to himself as he brushed off his hands. “Let's see what else I can find to do around here.” 

He didn't doubt there would be enough fun for him to have. There were plenty of walking meatshields trying to hurt everyone. All he worried about now was if he'd be able to do his part without wearing himself down. 

He'd worry about that later, he decided, and hurried off to find the next batch of idiots who thought they could stand up to Spartan City's finest gladiator. 

* * *

Gilag wasn't as agile as Alit, but he didn't need to be. Anyone who came up against him quickly found out why he'd been the last of his old unit to survive: injuring him was next to impossible. This had nothing at all to do to with magic, but everything to do with his size, strength, and ability to smack his opponents down before they got a chance to do anything to him. 

Ponta clung to Gilag's shoulder as if he'd grown there, watching for any openings where either of them could do some good. He would whisper now and then to his partner, gesturing with one tiny paw, and Gilag's staff slammed there moments later, or his fist did, or whatever would do the job most efficiently. 

Gilag had spent some time as a druid, and his skills drew every single day. But he'd spent far more time on the battlefields as a warrior, and when there was nothing that his magic could do, he saw nothing at all wrong with putting his old abilities to good use. 

“Gilag,” Ponta whispered into his ear, “I think we might be in a little bit of trouble.” 

Gilag checked out the situation before them. He didn't have Ponta's thousands of years of experience, but he thought the other could well have a point. Five warriors stood ranged against them, and three of them were at least within a handspan of his own height and weight, covered in better armor than he had, and very well-armed. Most people would've thought it better to give up, citing something about how discretion was the better part of valor. 

Gilag thought otherwise. 

“Doubles?” A plan he and Ponta had worked out before, imagining what they might do if a situation ever came up something like this one. 

Granted, he hadn't imagined fighting alongside six other people at the time, but that was a minor detail. 

Ponta nodded, wriggling a little, then leaping off of his shoulder to land in the deepest, darkest shadow that he could find. Gilag didn't worry about him. He knew what was coming. 

“Surrender!” He declared, pointing his staff at the range of enemies before him, letting a small weave of vines wrap around the end of it. “Before the earth itself turns against you!” 

They didn't _all_ laugh, but enough of them did so even if he hadn't wanted to end them all before, he most certainly did now. 

“You've got to be kidding us,” the one in the center said, the one who barely came up to the waist of the taller ones, but held deadly gleaming knives in both hands. Gilag had a very strong feeling they were poisoned, and decided not to get hit by them. 

“Not at all.” 

The voice that uttered that _didn't_ come from Gilag, even though it sounded exactly like this. One of the taller ones glanced over his shoulder to where it came from, and stared for a heartbeat before he jerked his head back around to stare at the druid. 

“What the...” 

The short warrior glanced up, his expression indicating he meant only to _check_ and nothing more; no experienced fighter took their attention away from the enemy in front of them for more than the time it took to assure oneself that another one wasn't coming up behind them. 

Only in this case, another enemy _was_ coming up behind them, and it was the same one that was in front of them. 

“What kind of magic are you using for that?” He snapped at Gilag, who contrived to look as innocent as he could. 

“I'm not using any magic at all. I didn't do a thing.” Gilag didn't lie. He could; he just wasn't right now. He raised his staff. “Are you going to fight or run?” 

He would let them run away if they could. If they showed that much sense, getting out of a situation they couldn't possibly survive, then he wished them all tlhe best of luck. He wished he'd had that sense much sooner in his own life. 

But if they tried to stand up against him, then Gilag wouldn't show any mercy toward them. They'd made their choice, and would suffer the consequences. 

He wasn't surprised at all when two of them roared and charged him, while the other three attacked his doppleganger. 

Gilag wondered if they'd noticed that the 'other him' bore raccoon whiskers. Even in the flickering lights of this underground cavern they could be seen, if one looked the right way. But as his staff cracked heads and knocked armored warriors away, he knew that he didn't have the time to ask. 

Perhaps he'd ask Ponta when this was all over with. If anyone would notice, the shapeshifting tanuki would. 

* * *

Mizael's sword and dagger slid out of their sheaths with a comforting steely rasp that reminded him of the slide of scales across stone. There were reasons for that; both of his blades held one of Jinlong's castoff scales forged into the hilt. They had been a gift from the wise dragon, who promised that Mizael would always carry a measure of dragon strength with him so long as he used them. 

And with the strength of a dragon, Mizael knew he would bring those who stood against him down. 

Mizael seldom uttered battle cries. He preferred being as silent and deadly as he could be. He was very good at that as well, and now proved no different. His dagger's blade sank into the first of those who dared to fight him, bright blood spilling down over his hands. Mizael ignored it; he would have to find a place where he could get a hot bath after this. 

_After_. There would be much more blood after all of this was taken care of. Better to get it all taken care of at once, even if he could flit off somewhere to soak the filth away. 

He brought his sword around in a glimmering arc, deflecting the blade that his next opponent raised to brush it aside, and driving his sword deep into the warrior's stomach. 

He'd never gloried in death. He didn't live to kill others. He protected the lands that he'd chosen to guard and the creatures, sentient and otherwise, who lived within them. But because of people like these, and those who hired them, those whom he looked after had been hurt beyond his ability to tend to them. 

_Jinlong_ had been hurt, and while Mizael raged at the injuring of those under his protection, the thought of his beloved dragon companion being in pain drove him to within a breath of madness. 

He could all but see Jinlong's wise and watchful eyes as he worked. Jinlong did not encourage revenge or anger, but guided Mizael as he always had, to find the best path to handle a problem. So far as Mizael cared at this moment, the best path was to kill them all. Every single one of them. 

If none of them lived any longer, then they wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else. What he knew of their sins was enough to merit a death sentence in any reasonable land. What he _didn't_ know would probably earn them far worse. 

Mizael had likely lived longer than everyone in this room put together, and he couldn't recall having heard of anything worse than what he knew these Fallguys were responsible for. This, a soft murmur that called for blood and revenge told him, was why he'd joined this cause. Not just because of how he owed Durbe, Ryouga, and Rio a debt, though that was part of it. These were the _exact ones_ who had done it, and to see them growing ever closer to the edge of his blades sent the fires of justice storming through him. 

He wished Jinlong could've been there. He would've enjoyed taking a bite or two out of them himself. 

The ranger had long since lost track of how many of them fell underneath his weapons. He stepped on something soft that gave away beneath him and ignored it to leap forward in search or better ground to launch his next attack from. 

All around him warriors surged, weapons clashed against weapons, and the light of magic brightened and dimmed, as everyone used their talents to the fullest. Mizael saw another of those bought to wear them out – because what else could all of these be, there were only three Fallguys – raising a dagger, aimed at Vector's back. 

It only took a moment for him to process it. Vector had saved him once already from those assassins sent earlier. A favor given demanded a favor paid back. 

The would-be killer paid no attention to what else was going on. That was the first mistake. No others were necessary. Mizael's sword found its way home through a small chink in the armor, little more than a widening of the links, but enough for the tip of his blade to drive in. 

The death-rattle was enough to alert Vector, who spun around with his own daggers ready. He blinked when he saw Mizael standing there, bloodied weapons in hand, then smiled. 

“If you keep doing this, I might think you don't mind me all that much,” Vector said, a teasing little grin appearing on his face. Mizael rolled his eyes. 

“I owed you, that's all.” 

Vector's smile widened a fraction. “I can think of more interesting ways to pay me back for saving your life.” 

“Maybe next time.” Mizael turned and headed into the thick of the fight, dismissing this from his mind. 

Vector did not. 

* * *

Rikuo and Kaio's warriors were dropping like flies no matter where any of the Fallguys looked. Both Rikuo and Kaio themselves were nothing more than meat on the floor, courtesy of Ryouga. 

“I think we might want to consider getting out of here,” Coyote said, casting worried glances at the seven warriors as they clearly gained the upper hand. None of them seemed to notice _them_ in particular, but that would change the closer the room got to being empty of anyone aside from the ten of them. 

Wolf fingered the gem around his neck, then nodded. “Everyone watch everyone's back.” He needed say nothing more; they were all ready to die for each other if they had to. They all hoped it wouldn't come to that, but they were ready to do so if necessary. 

* * *

Alit spun around one more time and slammed the latest of his opponents to the ground with all of his strength. They didn't move, which suited him perfectly as he looked up to see what was going on with the others. 

What he saw first were those three guys, the Fallguys, heading for what was probably an exit. He grinned to himself, and grabbed for Gilag's arm as the druid came near. 

“Hey, I think – huh?” Now the tanuki Ponta was there? Alit blinked and shook his head. “Uh, where's Gilag?” He was never going to get used to some of this magical stuff. 

“Over there, pon!” Ponta gestured with a quick jerk of his head, and Alit headed that way. After all the frustration of this entire journey, he wanted to be the one who brought down the Fallguys once and for all, and he couldn't think of anyone better to help him than his best friend. 

**To Be Continued**


	16. Battle Phase Two

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 16: Battle Phase Two  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,720||story: 41,896  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

These quarters were tight to fight in, but Durbe had more than one way he could deal with that. Half a dozen mercenaries surged toward him, and there wasn't any room for him to use his sword. So he raised his staff instead. 

“Oh, look, what're you going to do, make all of our hair turn pink?” The one in the lead smirked at him. Durbe smiled a little sadly. 

“I take it that you weren't informed of our proper abilities?” He didn't doubt for a moment that the Fallguys knew what they could do. The way the traps and delays had been set up spoke clearly of that. And if they'd chosen not to inform their cannon fodder, then that would have to be rectified. 

“You're supposed to be some kind of a wizard,” the one who'd spoken before said, cracking his knuckles before he reached for the sword at his belt. “But you've got armor on. So let's have a real fight.” 

Durbe took a long look at them and shook his head, whispering under his breath. They started for him once again, but this time he pointed the tip of his staff at them, and an arc of blue lightning shot out from it, knocking into the first one, sending him sprawling backward, jittering and steaming, eyes wide with shock first, then death. The lightning leapt from him to the next one, unleashing the same effect, and then to the one after that. It happened too quickly for any of them to stand a chance to get away from it. 

Not that they could have. Once he'd targeted them with the spell, it would've chased them down until it took them out or until he chose to cancel it, and Durbe wasn't known for his forgiveness on the battlefield. 

The chain lightning spell ended, he turned his attention now to what was going on elsewhere. There were still plenty of mercenaries going here and there, searching for someone to fight. He couldn't get an accurate count on them, but he decided that didn't matter. The sooner they were all done, the better. 

He stumbled forward suddenly as someone smacked into him from behind. He whirled to see what was going on, just in time to catch another strike to the center of his chest, his armor all that saved him from serious damage. Another hit sent him stumbling down to his knees as his staff was yanked away from him. 

“See, wizards aren't that tough,” a voice came from above him. His head spun as he tried to figure out what was going on and how best to deal with all of this. “They can die just like anyone else.” 

“He killed my little brother. I want to see him _burn!_ ” The voice wasn't one he recognized, but when he pulled his gaze up and saw two of the mercenaries there, he could tell one of them had to be related to the first one that he'd killed. Their features weren't identical, but similar enough that the relationship was made plain. 

The woman warrior glared down at him, hate burning in her eyes, and Durbe held back another sigh, rolling away from a strike that might well have taken his head off. He couldn't find his staff, but there was a little more room to work with now. He didn't need it quite that much. 

“Dying in battle is something most people expect when they join mercenaries,” he said, hoping that she would see reason, even as he reached for his sword. 

“I don't care. You killed my brother!” She raised her own sword, and he got his out just in time to block her blow. She wasn't a weakling by any means, and he could tell already that this would be a tough fight. 

She rained blow after blow on him, while the one she'd spoken to earlier moved around, calling out support and pointing out the occasional weak spot in Durbe's defense. He didn't attempt to interfere in the fight, however, and Durbe gave him a measure of credit for that. 

His advice wasn't quite good enough, however, to stop Durbe's attack when he saw a weakness in his opponent, and slammed his sword into it with all of his strength. Her eyes flew open wide, a small trickle of blood coming down from her mouth, and she stiffened, sword clattering to the ground. 

“Rest in peace,” was all that Durbe could bring himself to say. Especially since in the next moment, the warrior's adviser charged him, and he had to fight once again. 

* * *

Rio thoroughly enjoyed being priestess to an ocean goddess, for so many reasons. It was in her blood, which certainly helped, and it gave her many sweet memories of home, which were nothing to be sneezed at. 

But she also enjoyed the fact that humans were mostly made up of water, and being a priestess of the ocean meant that she could do all _kinds_ of interesting things to the water within them. 

She normally didn't use tactics like that, preferring other spells and the occasional strike of her staff against stubborn heads that weren't actually her twin's, but there were times when she had no other choice. 

A dozen large, beefy warriors circled around her, chatting to each other as if she weren't even there. 

“We could make a lot of money selling off some of that jewelry,” one of them commented to another. “Should we think about taking her alive? I bet we could get even more at the slave markets.” 

“Not a bad idea. Shouldn't be too hard to do, right? Cut her tongue out and we don't have to worry about magic, either,” one of the others agreed. “Besides, it's not like -” 

Oh, that was _it_. Rio didn't even bother with the special effect of slamming her staff onto the ground. Three snapped off words and snap of her fingers slammed a wave of ocean water from above onto the entire group, and another word froze it solid. 

“Next time, pay attention to the fighting and not what you think is going to happen after it,” Rio advised them, a slash of a smile across her features. “Of course, I don't think that you are going to have a next time.” 

Just because Rio didn't like using tactics that involved the water within people didn't mean she didn't know how to. 

Another wave of conjured water cleaned up the mess and she looked around to see what else was going on with her companions. No one seemed in any particular distress, handling the seemingly endless hordes of mercenaries fairly well. It wasn't _easy_ , she could tell, but no one was in any especial danger of dying because they couldn't handle the ones facing them. 

For some reason, the ones who had been starting to back up the bunch she'd just finished now seemed a little less inclined to face her, backing away when they saw her attention turning toward them. She smiled. 

“I thought you were being paid to fight us. Don't tell me that you've lost all of you courage.” That would have been _such_ a shame. She wasn't in the adventuring business to kill people, but if they set themselves against her with the intent to kill _her_ , then she saw no reason to stand back and let them do it. 

One of them found her voice. “Why should we fight someone who won't fight us face to face?” 

“What do you think I was just doing?” Rio rolled her eyes. “Just because I use magic doesn't mean I'm not fighting face to face. Now are you going to fight me or not? Because if you're not, you should get out of here. This isn't a place for you.” 

Rio couldn't find herself being all that surprised as they started to back up, looking more and more like they wished they'd never taken this job. She didn't blame them. 

She also wasn't that surprised when the walls shook, the floor rumbled, and a crack opened up beneath them, sending the half-dozen or so mercenaries screaming into it, their cries cut off only when the crack closed. 

“Come out,” she demanded, tapping the butt of her staff on the floor. From the walls there stepped someone in mage-robes, the edgings of it declaring that he came from a school focused on the manipulation of the earth. 

“Surely you don't object to my killing of your enemies,” a deep voice spoke as the sorcerer turned toward her. “It has always been my role in our group to dispose of those too cowardly to fight.” 

Rio's lip curled. “So do you plan to fight _me_ or just pick off those of your group who have second thoughts?” She thought she recalled having met him once before, when she, Durbe, and Ryouga crossed paths with Rikuo and Kaio years earlier. She hadn't liked him then and she didn't like him now. 

“I think you can guess the answer to that.” Magical energies swirled around his fingers. Her water spells earlier had left some parts of the ground muddy, and now she cursed to herself when she saw a small mud golem beginning to arise from there. Small for now, but it grew and grew, until it towered over her by several feet. “Smash her.” 

* * *

Ryouga didn't know how many enemies he'd killed in this fight. No matter how many he finished, there were still more rising up to strike at him, and he cut each of them down. He breathed harder and harder, his hands slick with blood, sweat stinging in his eyes, his arms hurting, his back strained, and he longed for a good hot bath and a mug of cold beer to take the taste of death out of his mouth. 

But the moment that he saw the mud golem rising over Rio, all of the pain ended up pushed out of his head and he took three swift steps to stand by his sister's side. 

“They brought along the sorcerer, didn't they?” He didn't need to ask, not with the magic-user still only a feet away, smirking at them smugly. 

“I told you that we should've killed him before we left.” 

Ryouga shrugged; she had, and he'd turned down the chance. It wasn't something he'd felt they needed to do at the time. “This time, you can do it.” 

“My pleasure.” Rio took a better grip on her staff as the mud golem raised one dripping arm. “Let's take care of this one first.” 

There was no need to argue over it. Rio dodged to the left, Ryouga to the right. She followed her moving up with a quick jab of her staff, digging it into the mud golem's back. It wouldn't do much, but it kept the creature in place long enough for him to get in closer with his sword. Once, twice, three times he struck, the blade sinking a little deeper each time. 

The last time, it stuck. He stared for a heartbeat before he tried to pull it out, using all of his strength. 

“Really, did you think I'd just let you do that?” The sorcerer sneered at both of them. “You're not getting your weapons back until my creature here is destroyed. And I don't think you two can do that.” 

Ryouga muttered a few words under his breath that would've had him sent to his room without supper if his mother had been in a position to hear them. Rio didn't bother with the profanity, but pulled on her staff, just enough to realize that it was stuck as well. 

“So we're going to have to do this another way,” Ryouga said as the two of them backed up together, the mud golem lurching closer. It vaguely resembled the sorcerer himself, though with much muddier features that only vaguely resembled anything human in the first place. Ryouga knew he was going to get a very deep satisfaction out of destroying it. 

“Was it ever going to be any other way?” Rio allowed a small smile and he returned it. 

“Any other way than you two being dead? I don't think so,” the sorcerer said. The twins glanced at him for a moment. 

“No one asked you.” 

They dodged apart from one another as the mud golem took another swing at them. For all of its size, it was amazingly agile, though not especially quick-thinking. Ryouga wasn't certain if most golems could think at all. This one didn't seem to do much of it, but it didn't need to. It existed for the sole purpose of destroying them. 

Ryouga did so hate to make other people's life goals go unfulfilled. But in this case, he didn't have any real problems with it. 

He slipped his lute from the case and strummed swiftly, focusing his thoughts on the matter at hand. The sorcerer, for his part, began to laugh. 

“Do you think playing a few tunes will help you against my creation? Or did you want to try playing at your own funeral? You won't get much of one, I'm sure. What a pity, for both of you.” 

Ryouga kept his attention divided three ways: his music, the golem, and Rio. Everything and everyone else would have to take care of itself until after they finished this battle. Rio crossed her arms over her chest, closed her eyes, and concentrated, speaking words that he couldn't hear and knew that even if he had, he wouldn't have understood them. 

“Honestly, you should just stand still and let me finish you off. I'll make it quick. Painful, but quick,” the sorcerer said, taking a few steps closer to where Ryouga stood, his music subtly weaving outward and around to tie into Rio's spell. “If you don't, I can make certain it's painful and slow. Have you ever thought about what it would be like to starve to death, trapped without food or water? It would take a few days, at least. And there wouldn't be anyone who could get to you, not after we finish the rest of your little brigade here.” 

Ryouga almost stopped the magic he was working, wanting to retort that their 'brigade' was stomping all of the sorcerer's meat shield buddies into nothing but a bad memory. Rio shook her head the tiniest fraction, not enough to disrupt her own magic but enough to remind him of what they were doing, and he focused himself back on the strings underneath his fingers. 

“What _are_ you doing?” The sorcerer bent closer, listening to the music. His eyes widened and he jerked himself around to stare at Rio. Only now did it dawn on him that their combined music and magic not only kept the mud golem from moving at all, but Rio was unweaving the spells that kept it alive in the first place. “No! How dare you!” 

Ryouga kept himself under control, despite the burning urge to retort that the sorcerer was one to talk, stealing their weaponry. The spell he worked, supporting and increasing Rio's abilities, didn't require his voice, but it did require all of his concentration, and if he talked, it would take away from that. But he thought the words as hard as he could nevertheless. 

The sorcerer began to saw the air around him, hands waving wildly, babbling spells of his own as swiftly as he could get his tongue to shape them. Ryouga smiled only for a moment. This was what they'd both been waiting for. 

He hauled back, braced himself, and kicked the sorcerer in the stomach as hard as he could. The mage flew backwards into the wall, eyes round as he gasped for breath. He scrambled to call the golem over to him, but another kick made that impossible. 

Steel and wood clattered against the ground as his sword and her staff fell, released by the golem's destruction. The sorcerer tried to get to his feet, but Ryouga kept him down with one more kick, even as Rio handed him his sword. 

“Count yourself lucky,” he said as he raised it. “When I make a ballad out of this, you might get a stanza or two.” 

And he finished it. 

**To Be Continued**


	17. Search and Find and Lose

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 17: Search and Find and Lose  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,587||story: 44,483  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation. **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

Alit hurried down the corridor, his fists held bunched and ready, eyes flicking to all sides. So far as he could tell, they'd left all the mercenaries – the ones who were still alive, anyway – behind them, but he didn't trust the Fallguys not to have some kind of backup. The way this place had been set up reeked of traps and ambushes at every corner. Still, he didn't doubt that he and Gilag could power their way through it, and bring back their targets in more or less one piece. 

Or at least bring back the treasure. Alit wasn't especially bent on killing them, but if it turned out to be necessary, he wouldn't be too squeamish about it either. 

Gilag moved along only a pace or two behind him, Ponta still safely tucked between his shoulder and neck, and staff in hand, watching every bit as carefully as Alit himself did. The gladiator couldn't help but be a tiny bit surprised still at how quietly the other could move when he wanted to. He just didn't expect it from someone as large as Gilag was, no matter how often he'd seen it. 

He also didn't expect the sudden yank on his shoulder as Gilag pulled him back. 

“What's the - ” His question broke off when a row of darts shot toward where he'd been, and he ducked farther to the side, hoping they weren't enchanted or something. 

They were, swinging to follow him even as he moved. Gilag grumbled something rough under his breath and stamped his staff down on the ground. The darts froze where they were, hung in the air for a few seconds, and then dropped down in a small heap. Alit eyed them cautiously. 

“Safe to go on?” He wondered even as he asked if they should've waited for everyone else. Well, it was too late to wonder about that now. 

“Yes.” Gilag moved forward and Alit leaped along, a faint sheen of nervous sweat all over him. This was exhilerating, and worrisome at the same time. He didn't know what he would do here without Gilag. 

Footsteps echoed from ahead of them, and Alit slowed down just enough so he could turn the upcoming corridor without having to worry about meeting an axe to the face and not having time to avoid it. He peeked around quickly and grinned when he saw one of the Fallguys hurrying ahead of him. It was the shortest one, with wild magenta hair. He wasn't sure which of his name, but that wasn't very necessary at the moment. Names were for formalities and courts. Alit had other ways to identify his opponents. 

The Fallguy glanced over his shoulder, his eyes going almost comically round, then started to run even faster. “Get moving! They're coming!” 

Alit couldn't see the other two, but thought little of it. The corridor wasn't that big, nor was it all that well-lighted. He grinned as he stepped up his pace. 

“You really think you can get away from us?” Alit taunted. 

“Guess we're going to find out!” The Fallguy retorted, hurrying his steps along. He glanced ahead of himself and didn't lose a single step when he shouted farther, “Get that door open! They're right behind me!” 

Alit sped up himself; this could be their chance to get hold of at least one of them. And he'd know whether the other two were. “Hey, Gilag, think you can do anything to slow him down?” 

“Not at the moment,” Gilag said, sounding only a little out of breath. “I've used up most of my magic for today.” 

Well, that was just as well. Alit didn't want to tell any of the magic-users he knew this, but he trusted his fists far more than he trusted the average spellslinger any day of the week. His fists got tired only when he did, and he didn't have to pray to anyone to get the use of them back. 

He hurried on faster, spying a dark shape in the wall that was probably the door the Fallguy headed for. The other was only a few steps away from it, one hand reaching for it, and Alit decided it was now or never. He crouched, held himself ready for a single heartbeat, then leaped forward, rolling, tackling the Fallguy around the legs, even as he started to swing into the doorway. 

“Hey! Leggo!” The Fallguy struggled, clawing at the dirt floor with one hand, while scrambling for a heavy dagger at his waist with the other. Alit grabbed hold of the hand trying for the weapon and bent it backward. “I said to let go of me!” 

“I don't think so,” Alit said, wriggling up higher so he could pin his captive down more firmly. “Now tell us where the other two are and I might go easy on you.” 

The Fallguy glared at him, still straining to either get away or get armed. “What makes you think I'm going to tell you anything?” 

“Well, if you don't, I could let him ask you.” Alit jerked his head toward Gilag, who frowned down as sternly as he could. Gilag's face was all but crafted with being intimidating in mind, and he had a lot of practice with it as well. “Or we could take you back to the others. I bet they've all got some words they'd like to say to you.” 

His prisoner shifted a little, not reaching for the dagger quite so obviously. “Don't care. I'm not going to betray them!” 

“Guess we'll have to do this the hard way then,” Alit decided. He shrugged, pulling himself back to his feet and dragging the other with him. Gilag reached over to pluck their prisoner up by the back of his shirt, holding him several inches off the ground. “Thanks, buddy.” 

“Any time.” Gilag smiled back at him. Alit rubbed the back of his neck, trying to get his thoughts sorted out, and peeked into the room the Fallguy had been trying to get to. He didn't think the other two would still be there, and wasn't surprised to see they weren't. 

_Wonder if they used magic to get out of here or if there's some kind of a hidden door._ He couldn't be entirely certain; there were too many options available to them. 

“Let's get back to the others,” he decided. Maybe one of the magic types would be able to figure this out. They'd at least caught one-third of their enemies, which was better than they'd done half an hour earlier. 

* * *

Coyote grinned as the big druid and small gladiator dragged him through the corridors. He did his best to keep them from seeing it, but he grinned all the same. 

_Idiots._

They'd find out just how stupid they were being soon enough. And he couldn't wait to see it. 

* * *

It started with a small sprinkle of dirt that caught everyone's attention. At least everyone's attention who was actually there; no one was quite certain where Alit and Gilag had vanished off to. But that dirt turned Vector, Rio, Ryouga, Durbe, and Mizael's heads all toward one of the many hallways leading off of this chamber, and all five reacted in the same moment, going off after it. 

The hallway wasn't large enough for all five of them to run abreast, and the swift-footed ranger ended up taking the lead. Vector was only a step or two behind him, while Durbe, Ryouga, and Rio followed with all due speed. 

“There,” Vector breathed the word out, gesturing unnecessarily as they came to a crossroads. One of the Fallguys hurried along the crossing road, glancing over his shoulder in time to see them staring at him. 

Vector slipped a dagger out of a hidden sheath and took aim. The Fallguy, large and built and bearded, threw himself down on the ground just in time to avoid the blade slicing through important internal organs. He whirled himself around long enough to return the favor, the blade aimed directly for Vector. 

Whatever else Vector did for a living, it involved him being far more agile than most people. He didn't entirely dodge the knife, and it left behind a trail of blood on the right side of his face, before thudding into the dirt-covered walls. Vector paused, touched his bleeding wound, then reached over to wrench the dagger out. 

“You dropped this,” he all but hissed, throwing it back twice as fast as the first one he'd cast. The Fallguy, to his credit, did try to get out of the way. But he wasn't nearly as fast as Vector, a grunt of pain escaping his lips as the dagger slammed into his shoulder. 

“You missed,” he grated out a heartbeat later, dragging himself to his feet. He didn't try to take the dagger out, either. “You could've killed me if you'd aimed better.” 

Vector's smile spoke of madness and pain, and not for him. “I didn't miss. I hit exactly what I was aiming for. I can just think of much more interesting things to do to you before you die.” 

“Such as tell us where your two friends are,” Ryouga interrupted, taking a step forward. “Or I might let him do those interesting things to you.” 

“You wouldn't.” The Fallguy shook his head, a smirk twisting his lips. “You're _heroes_. You don't hurt people who haven't hurt you first.” 

“I just threw a knife into your shoulder,” Vector pointed out. “I can have you begging me to kill you in under five minutes. I've been ordered to bring you, your friends, and the treasure of Kuragari back. Or just the treasure, if you put up too much of a fuss.” 

He took a step closer, another of his daggers in his hands, twirling it between his fingers and eyeing the Fallguy as if trying to decide where best to aim. “And honestly, dragging all three of you back alive would _be_ too much of a fuss.” 

Ryouga looked back at the Fallguy. “Well?” To look at him, one couldn't tell if he agreed with what Vector said or if he would just claim to in order to get the other one to talk. 

“I can't tell you where the others are,” the Fallguy said after a few tense moments, eyes flicking back and forth between the members of the group. 

“I think you can,” Vector said, sliding forward, knife held low and ready. “In fact, I think you're going to start begging to tell me anything I want to know.” 

Before he could move again, the Fallguy wiggled back, wincing at the pain in his shoulder as he did. “I can't tell you because I don't know! We split up, that's all!” 

Durbe frowned, catching Ryouga's eye. “If that's true, it's going to take even longer to track them down. They could be anywhere.” 

“If that's true.” Ryouga stared down at their prisoner. “But I don't know if we should take his word for it right away.” He glanced toward Vector, who hadn't taken his eyes off the Fallguy yet. If anything, he looked even more eager to start chopping off unimportant pieces until he got what he wanted. Or until he got bored of chopping pieces off. Ryouga couldn't be certain about him, honestly. 

From back down the hallway they'd followed to get here came a sudden call. “Hey! Where are you guys?” 

“Alit?” Rio glanced back that way. “We'd better go see what's going on with them.” She didn't sound especially happy at the idea of giving up what little lead they had. 

With Ryouga keeping a firm grip on their prisoner, the group headed back down to the large room, still cluttered with the bodies of those they'd fought earlier. Someone would have to do something about that, eventually, but none of them were quite in the mood to spend the time on it. Not when their mission was so close to being done. 

Alit and Gilag were visible as soon as they stepped into the room, and Ryouga began to ask where they'd gone. The words choked off as soon as he saw the third person there, held in Gilag's iron grip: one of the other Fallguys. 

“Whoa,” Alit breathed out the word as he turned to greet them, and his gaze fell on their own prisoner. “What's going on here?” 

Vector glared down at the Fallguy that Ryouga held tightly. “He claims that they split up.” 

“We couldn't even get that much out of him,” Alit said, shooting a look at the one Gilag kept still. “We chased them down a hallway and the other two...” His voice trailed off and his eyes narrowed. “I thought the other two just got out through a secret exit or something but if he said they split up...” 

Silence fell hard and deep between the seven of them. Ryouga's grip tightened on the that he held and he delivered an ocean-cold stare, rage building up. 

“What are you two really up to? Where's your leader?” 

The other shrugged with the uninjured shoulder. “How should I know? I told you, we split up.” 

“Why should we believe that you're telling the truth?” Durbe wanted to know, leaning closer. “He could very well have abandoned you to us, while he escapes with the treasure.” 

The one in Gilag's grip shook his head fast and hard. “He'd never do that!” He didn't sound as if he were trying to convince them, or himself. Ryouga hadn't spent years of his life training as a bard without learning something about tones and inflections, and he could tell this one believed what he said. Not one shred of doubt at all. 

“So where is he?” Ryouga turned toward that one. “Because if you don't tell us, we've got no reason to keep you around.” He deliberately kept what they might do, or not do, ambiguous. Let their own fears and worries work at them. 

The two Fallguys glanced at each other, then away. Ryouga shook his head a bit, warning Vector off from both of them. He wanted them to confess without being terrified into it. It would make whatever they said more likely to be true. 

He didn't expect them to start laughing. Loudly, derisively, and as if they'd either heard or played the best joke of all time. 

“What's so funny?” Gilag asked, shaking the one he held. “You heard him! Where's your boss?” 

“Probably halfway out of the forest by now, if not more.” The one that he and Alit had caught gasped. “You're certainly not going to see him again!” 

“Right!” The other one declared, wincing as his laughter sent shards of pain all through his shoulder. “He knows better than to try to come back for us!” 

“He abandoned you? Hardly a good leader,” Durbe said in disapproval. Both of them shook their heads at that. 

“He's the _best_! He's going to come find us later. Doesn't matter what you try to do, we'll all be back together, and you can't stop it!” Gilag's captive declared. Ryouga's prisoner nodded a quick agreement. 

“Us staying here doesn't mean anything! He's the important one!” 

Sacrifice. Ryouga's lips thinned as it all fell into place. These two sacrificed themselves on purpose to give their leader time to get away. And they'd fallen for it. They had no idea of which way he'd taken to get out of there, and he was getting farther away with every moment. 

**To Be Continued**


	18. Team Effort

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 18: Team Effort  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,689||story: 47,172  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

At first there the clearing remained empty of all save soft waves of deep green grass, dotted about with a multitude of vibrantly hued wildflowers, and the soft chime of a stream cascading over rocks. Perhaps when the sun set and the local wildlife began to search for the night's meal there would be something else there. 

Perhaps not, as the air suddenly rippled and twisted, and where there'd been only a clearing and nothing more, there now stood a man, wrapped in leather and steel, leaning over and attempting to catch his breath. 

_Damn...stupid...magic!_ Wolf didn't yet have enough strength to speak as he tried to recover from the effects of teleporting out. He knew he couldn't stay here long. Those heroes, such as they were, would be on his trail sooner or later, and the more distance he put between them and him, the better. 

He would have to come back to find Jackal and Coyote sooner or later, of course. It might take days, weeks, or even longer before they were back together, but he had no intentions of abandoning them altogether. 

_They'll be in the Scarlet City prisons, most likely._ He would sort all of that out later. He fingered the dark pendant around his neck for a few moments. Once he acquired the money he wanted for this little bauble, then he would be more than capable of performing a little jailbreak. 

First things first, in that case. He breathed harder, taking in where he was, and started through one of the barely visible trails that led away from here. He wished he'd been able to get a teleportation device that could've landed him somewhere closer to the port cities, but the more specific one's target was, the more expensive such an item would be, and they'd had a tight budget setting this up. 

_You'd best hurry._ The soft words whispered through his mind, and while he didn't pay attention to them specifically, he hurried his steps along nevertheless. _They'll be coming for you soon._

* * *

“What do we do?” Alit pounded his fists into the walls over and over again, ignoring how the dirt fell from above with each strike. “How are we going to find him? He could be anywhere by now!” 

“How did they even do this?” Gilag wanted to know. They all knew _something_ of what had happened; Coyote and Jackal had gotten very talkative after a few threats by Vector that he seemed amazingly eagerly to carry out. 

Ryouga glanced at Durbe. The two of them and Rio both felt they should've seen this coming. “Because they trust each other. They know he'll come for them, no matter how long they have to wait. So they didn't mind sacrificing themselves to let him get away.” 

“That doesn't make any sense!” Vector shook his head in disapproval. “He could leave them there forever and enjoy the profits.” 

Mizael shook his head. “He could, but I don't think that he will. And regardless, we need to find him ourselves.” 

Durbe's eyes touched upon Ryouga, then Rio's, before he stood straighter and cleared his throat. “The three of them are willing to sacrifice anything for one another. They trust each other completely, no matter how long it might take to reunite. That is a trust we don't have.” 

“You think I'd want to trust them?” Alit rolled his eyes, rubbing his knuckles and eyeing the walls as if choosing where to strike again. 

“Not them. Us. The best way we can find him is to work _completely_ together, as we haven't before.” Durbe chose his words with the greatest of care. “We all have many skills and talents. Using them in concert is our only way to find Wolf, and the Treasure of Kuragari.” 

Glances flittered among the group, one to another, some trusting, some not. Some willing to take the chance, others a touch more hesitant. 

“If we don't succeed in this mission,” Rio said quietly, “then everything that we came here to do doesn't mean anything in the end.” 

Alit's eyes narrowed and he slammed his fist one more time into the wall. “For nothing? All of this for nothing? Not while I'm still around.” 

“They have a great deal to pay for,” Mizael spoke up, tossing back his hair. “And I want them _all_ to pay for it, not just these two.” He shot a deadly glare at the two who remained tied up not that far away. 

Vector shrugged, something not much like a smile hovering on his lips. “It's my job to find them no matter what.” 

“Whatever else they've done, they need to be stopped before they can do more of it,” Gilag added in his opinion. “And we're the only ones who can do it.” 

“We'll have to use everything that we have at our disposal,” Durbe said. “Anything that we leave out could become a tool Wolf can use to get away from us.” 

Ryouga brushed his cloak off and rose up to his feet as well. “And the sooner that we get all of this done, the better.” 

Seven faces glanced at one another, then nodded as one. “How do we figure out where he went?” Alit asked. “Is there a way to track him?” He glanced toward Mizael, who frowned in thought. 

“I could, if I knew where he started from. But we've looked all through here and there aren't any tracks. It's as if he vanished into thin air.” 

Durbe leaned his head back a little. “He might well have. There are spells that one could use to get from one place to another, even if someone isn't a magic-user themselves.” 

“What are the odds he could've used one of those to get completely out of reach?” Vector wanted to know, leaning forward with a manic gleam in his eyes. 

“Not that good,” Durbe said. “If he has one, then he probably didn't go very far.” 

Mizael cracked a smile. It wasn't the most pleasant of expressions. “If I can find where he started, then I can find him.” 

Vector turned back toward Coyote and Jackal. “I think I can help with that.” 

* * *

Eventually the screams died down and became something a little more coherent. There wasn't nearly as much blood nor as many broken bones as one might suspect when Vector finished his interrogation, yet both Jackal and Coyote shuddered at the very sight of Vector and his demonic smirk. 

“There's a clearing about a mile or so from where we came down here. That's where he would appear if he used the item they bought to get out of here,” Vector reported, dusting his hands off. 

Durbe considered that. “He could try going back to the Scarlet City. Or head for the coast; there are a few villages between here and there where he could pick up a horse and make some better time.” 

“Then the sooner we get out there and track him down, the better,” Alit declared. “How do we get out of here ourselves?” 

That was a question none of them had the answer to right away. Durbe shook his head at the eager look Alit turned on him a few seconds later. 

“Why can't you? You're a wizard, aren't you?” The gladiator wanted to know. Durbe managed a small smile. 

“Yes, but no wizard knows every spell in the world. Teleportation spells haven't ever been anything that I've studied. I've never needed to, with Mach.” 

“Mach?” 

Durbe's smile softened for a heartbeat or two. “My companion, my dearest friend,” his eyes flicked over to Ryouga, “who isn't human. He's a pegasus. And he's waiting for me outside.” 

“He's likely with Jinlong,” Mizael added, warmth lighting up his blue eyes. Vector looked curious. 

“Your dragon friend?” 

“Yes. He's resting somewhere up there.” Mizael glanced toward the ceiling, anticipating seeing his dear dragon friend once more. 

Ryouga moved forward, a sudden gleam in his eyes. “When we're out of here, the two of you can work on finding Wolf, or his trail, so you can track him.” He nodded toward Mizael. “Once you have him or a lead on him, let us know.” 

“How?” Durbe asked. “My magic's all but wrung out for the day.” 

Gilag stepped forward. “I can help with that.” 

“How?” Vector wanted to know. “The forest up there can get hard to travel through. You saw that when we came in. You can't just run back and forth.” 

Gilag's lips twisted up into a smile. “Just you wait and see.” 

“So, what we need to do first is get out of here,” Rio said. “We can't go back the way that we came.” The door they'd entered that led this way ended up sealing itself behind them, and no one knew how to get it open again. 

Vector looked at their prisoners. “I could question them a little more.” 

“Would they survive it?” Ryouga asked. Vector considered that, tracing his finger along the blade of his dagger to test the edge. 

“Probably not.” Vector did have his honest moments. 

Alit paced a bit, eyes going from their prisoners to the two or three corridors stretching out from this room. “Could that thing of his have taken them all if they'd stuck together?” 

All eyes turned to Durbe and his intimate knowledge of magic. The knight-mage slowly shook his head. “Those items generally only can take one person a certain amount of distance. So either they all have items of their own, or - ” 

The conclusion to his sentence came to everyone at the same time. 

“Or there is another way out of here. One that they could use.” Rio said it with a measure of satisfaction. After all they'd done, it wasn't likely that they had transportation items of their own. So that secondary way out _had_ to exist. 

“Ponta,” Gilag said after a thoughtful moment. “Think you can find the way out? Fresh air, sunlight, probably something good to eat somewhere out there.” 

“I can, pon!” The tanuki lashed his tail, leaped down from Gilag's shoulder, and raced away through the nearest exit. He moved too quickly for most of them to see him as he ran through each corridor, but in far less time than any of them would've expected - except perhaps Gilag himself – he pelted back to them, grinning smugly. 

“What did you find?” Gilag asked as his companion raced up his legs to perch once more on his shoulders. 

“It's that way! Hidden, but I found it!” Ponta pointed one tiny paw toward the third corridor he'd gone down. “Let's go! I'm hungry!” 

It would've taken harder people than these not to laugh at that, and harder even than that not to agree that when they were finally out of here, Ponta would join in the celebratory feast they'd already promised themselves. 

* * *

With Ponta's help, finding the way through the twisting passages, which were far more extensive than the route they'd already come through would have led anyone to believe, wasn't nearly as hard as it could've been. 

“Who built all of this?” Rio wondered as they drew closer to the exit. “It's not what I'd call a summer resort.” 

“Legend has it that it was built long ago by one of the king's ancestors,” Vector said, his own gaze shifting here and there as he spoke. “There is supposed to be a room somewhere where he held executions for those who displeased him.” 

Alit made a face. “Can we not talk about executions?” Some discussions simply hit a little too close to home. 

Vector looked as if he would've enjoyed continuing in that trail of thought, but a glance from Mizael shut him up on the matter. Instead, the seven headed toward the exit, sensing the imminent end of their journey. 

* * *

“All right, we're up here,” Alit said, taking in a deep breath of the cool air. He thought it looked to be close to noon, and while sitting down for lunch would've been magnificent, they still had work to do. “How do we go about this?” 

Ryouga turned to Mizael and Durbe. “If you'd call your companions, we can get to it. Like we said before, you two go up high and search for Wolf. Then you can send work back through Gilag, and we can catch up to you. And to him.” The smirk on his face called to mind sharks and every other predator of the sea. 

Durbe lifted his face up at once. “Mach!” The single word echoed back and forth throughout the forest, and moments later, the most magnificent stallion that any of them had ever seen coasted down to stand beside Durbe, white wings folding onto his back as he nuzzled againt the spellwielding warrior. “I missed you, too,” Durbe murmured, rubbing his hands over the warm white coat. 

Mizael didn't need to call; only a flicker of concentration was needed, and soon enough a great golden dragon hovered over them. Mizael reached up to rub his hands over the whiskered face, a peace reaching over him that few of them had seen before. 

“We have prey to hunt,” he murmured, gazing into the dragon's eyes. “Are you ready?” 

“Always.” The voice that came was quiet and rich and Alit very nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of it. Jinlong cast an amused glance toward him, then inspected the others one by one. He said nothing at all until his gaze fell on Vector and he bent a trifle closer. “We will speak soon, human.” 

In all the time they'd known him, none of them had seen Vector look actually _worried_ until now. But he simply folded his arms over his chest and nodded briefly. 

Mizael rolled his eyes and leaped up onto Jinlong's back before he looked toward Durbe. “Do you think you can keep up with us?” 

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Durbe replied, the faintest hints of amusement gleaming in his expression. “Let's go.” 

Both of them rose higher and higher, circling in ever expanding arcs, each taking one part of the area to inspect. 

There were a thousand things that could go wrong with this plan and in the backs of their minds, everyone knew it. No one knew what other schemes Wolf might have in store for them. He could've had another transportation item ready to take him farther away after this. They could've misread the group's intentions as a whole. So much could go wrong. But none of them were of the sort that would simply sit and wait for matters to happen without their intervention. They would do all they could to bring this to an end personally. 

It was Mizael who caught sight of a figure moving hurriedly through the trees. At his murmured request, Jinlong moved closer so his partner could get a better look. 

_Black and white hair. There aren't many who have that,_ Mizael mused. This could only be their target. He turned again, searching for any sign of Gilag or the tanuki. One of them should be in the area. 

There! Too far away to do anything about Wolf, but not so far as the dragon flew, stood the burly druid. Mizael cast one backward glance; he would've been quite pleased to take Wolf out himself, given the firm belief that the Fallguys were those responsible for the poisoning of Jinlong. But Ryouga and Durbe were right. They needed to work this as a team. 

Besides, it would be much more fun to have more options for what to do with the group once they had all three of them. 

“That way!” Mizael called out, getting Gilag's attention as he gestured toward the fleeing thief. “We'll keep an eye on him!” 

Gilag nodded, then turned and ran through the woods, moving straight through some of the thickest brush and brambles as if they weren't even there. There were few humans who could've matched his pace, and Mizael found himself smiling. 

Perhaps there were good reasons to work with _some_ humans after all. 

**To Be Continued**


	19. End of the Beginning

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 19: End of the Beginning  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,680||story: 49,852  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

Of all the sights that could be seen, one that few people ever had the chance to view was that of a dragon and a winged horse flying side by side, following a running man down on the ground beneath them. Mizael and Durbe tracked Gilag as he guided them along the way, with the rest of the team – now feeling more like a team than they had throughout the whole journey underground – following as swiftly as they could. 

From his position above, Durbe could judge just which territory those on foot could make it through and which they needed to work their way around. Mizael made certain that they didn't lose sight of Gilag, and watched continually the small moving figure that was their target. 

Once Gilag retrieved the others, they'd sorted out how to track Wolf down. Mizael and Durbe kept watch from above, while Gilag watched them and showed everyone where to go, based on Durbe's waved signals. So far it worked fairly well. 

Wolf was proving true to his namesake, however, covering quite a lot of ground in a short amount of time. He could dodge and weave and make the route as complicated as he wished, and he seemed to wish to make it very complicated. 

But in the end, that really did him more harm than good, since they could spot which way he was going and make judgment calls on how close they had to follow him. Which wasn't close at all, not with a flying horse and a dragon as backup. 

* * *

Somewhere in there, and he had no idea of how, Wolf knew he'd gotten lost. It was those damned _heroes_ chasing after him! If he hadn't had to throw them off the trail, then he could've taken a leisurely stroll to the ocean and not had to worry about this at all. 

But instead he found himself standing on the edge of a cliff, sweaty, disheveled, and completely with no clue on where the ocean was from there, and worst of all, he could hear them getting closer. 

Well, he wasn't gone yet. He set his back to the cliff and glared at them as they began to gather, all of them giving him the kind of looks that he wasn't used to seeing from other people at all. He'd never seen so many people who looked so absolutely exhausted and yet clearly ready, willing, and able to shred him on sight. 

“Do you think I'll just surrender to you?” He rested one hand proudly on his sword, ready to fight to the death if need be. “You're fools!” 

The bard stepped forward, eyes flashing with anger. “If you don't want to die, you will.” 

“Who said I wanted that?” Wolf taunted back. “Besides, you're heroes. You're not going to kill me. Isn't there a ransom for me alive?” 

The carrot-headed one smirked and Wolf could feel his stomach drop at the sight. “Dead or alive. We just need to prove that you're the one we're after.” 

Wolf shook his head. “You wouldn't do that.” They were heroes. He'd said it already. So long as he didn't attack first, they couldn't do anything. It was in their hero mythos or something. That was a bard there, didn't he know that? 

“Explain to me why I wouldn't.” The one who wasn't the bard who'd spoken before strolled up a little closer. He looked Wolf up and down with the kind of expression that one gave a small pebble in one's shoe. “Because I can't really think of why I wouldn't and I can think of many reasons why I would.” 

Wolf expected them to pull him back. He expected some kind of restraint on what was clearly a madman waiting to happen. 

What he got was the other grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him close enough to set a dagger at his throat. “And I can think of so many ways to do it, too.” 

Wolf had never wanted to call for help from his enemies. He didn't _want_ to now but there was a knife at his throat and the grip that held him was far too strong. 

“You'll never find the jewel if you kill me!” He bluffed, trying to pull back and not having a great deal of luck. Whatever this man was, he was not a weakling at all. Wolf's hands battered at his uselessly. For all of his own training, for all that he'd done to keep himself alive and free, none of it worked now. 

The one holding him smirked, the knife dropping from his neck only long enough to cut through the cord holding the black gem. “You mean this?” 

Wolf paled, even as the other flipped it toward his companions. “How did you -” 

“I'm not nearly as stupid as you wish we all were. Now, should I go ahead and take your head or should we take you back in one piece?” He licked his lips, seemingly fine with either option. “It would probably take up less space to just bring your head along.” 

Six voices sighed more or less in unison. “Vector.” 

Vector didn't even look at them. “What? It would. We've already got two of them to take back. Why should we bother with all three of them?” 

Wolf wanted to hear them say something to the effect of 'because it's wrong to kill someone who isn't fighting back'. What he heard instead was, “So he can have a trial. They'll probably give him a sentence worse than death.” 

All right. It wasn't quite what he wanted, but he was willing to go along with it. Being left alive meant that he would have a chance to escape with his comrades later anyway. He'd already made up his mind not to go anywhere near Don Thousand's Scarlet City, no matter what. There were too many people there who would like to take off body parts he was rather attached to: like his head. 

“If you insist,” Vector sighed, then reversed the grip on his dagger. Wolf barely had time to realize he'd moved before darkness engulfed him, along with a harsh spike of pain to the back of his skull. 

* * *

Vector caught Wolf as he fell over and tossed him to the ground. “You guys can take care of him now.” He'd done enough, in his opinion. More than enough. 

Besides, he knew how Don Thousand's courts worked. A sentence worse than death was very likely indeed. 

In minutes, Wolf was tied up, restrained in such a way that even when he woke up, he wouldn't be able to get himself free for hours, if at all. And by the time he woke up, they would be back in the city anyway. 

The seven of them stood looking at one another, an odd sort of silence falling between them. Durbe held the gemstone from the broken chain and examined it, letting it gleam in the light of the sun. 

“Is this what we did everything for?” Alit wanted to know, leaning over to take a look at it. “That little jewel.” 

“Kuragari's royal family will pay handsomely to get it back,” Vector said, trying not to look too long at it. The rich feeling of life that the gemstone gave off upset his stomach and made him wish he could throw it into the invitingly near ocean. “Let's go.” He wanted that thing back in the island kingdom and far, far away from him. 

Durbe had brought along the box the gem had been contained in and Vector relaxed a fraction when he put it inside and shut it firmly. The farther away from it he was, the better he liked it. 

“How do we get back? It'll take us a while on foot and I think we all want to get this done sooner than later,” Alit said. He also cast a few glances at the dragon and flying horse, curiosity afire. 

Mizael took a step forward. “I can take them back.” He flicked one finger toward Wolf. “They shouldn't be any problem for me and Jinlong.” 

Vector's eyes narrowed. “You should have someone else with you, just in case.” As if he were going to let his pretty new friend go off without him, especially in the company of their enemies, defeated or not. The dragon was impressive, but Vector still trusted his knives over dragon claws and talons. 

The dragon peered closer as well, but at Vector, not the Fallguys. “I can carry a great deal, but five might well be difficult.” 

“Then Vector doesn't need to go along,” Alit piped up at once. “Four would be rough enough, I bet.” 

Vector held back a hiss and managed to stop himself from taking out his dagger once again. He had to work with these people just a little longer. 

Surprisingly, Durbe had an answer. “I have only a few spells left that I can use at the moment, but one of them should do. We need to get the other two first before I cast it.” 

“What kind of spell?” Rio wanted to know. Vector refused to admit he was a little curious himself, but if it allowed him to spend quality time with Mizael, he wasn't going to question it. Much. 

“It will shrink them down to the size of a small doll. Perhaps this big.” Durbe measured out a span of his hands that indicated something the size of a small statuette. “It will last until sometime early tomorrow morning. We won't have time to dawdle.” 

“Did you actually say 'dawdle'?” Alit eyed Durbe. “I didn't think anyone used that word.” 

Durbe gave him a reproachful look, which had Vector snickering. He could tolerate some of these people more than others – Mizael – but Alit irritated him on so many levels that he couldn't even begin to count them all. 

Of course, Alit was child's play compared to _Ryouga_ \- if that was the name he chose to go by for now. He could hardly wait to never see him again. 

Getting back to the entrance they'd left the underground maze by wasn't too hard, nor was getting Coyote and Jackal from where they'd been stashed. Vector let himself relax a tiny bit, as did the others. It was finally time to wrap everything up and head for home. 

* * *

Mizael put the figurine-sized captives in an empty pouch. Durbe assured him that the spell kept them in a condition where they wouldn't suffer from not having much air. Still, the sooner they made it back to the Scarlet City and these three could be handed over to the proper authorities, the better. 

Vector stood not that far away, and Mizael could feel his eyes on him. He hadn't yet asked Jinlong why he wanted to talk to Vector, though he felt certain he knew anyway. Mizael was many things, but an idiot wasn't one of them, and he knew well the signs of attraction Vector had shown. He hadn't yet decided if he returned it, but Jinlong could be like an overprotective parent at times. 

Whatever Vector had in mind couldn't be that much of an annoyance, Mizael knew. If it was, Alcor would've already shown up to be insufferably smug about it. So whatever it was, he knew he could deal with it. There were advantages to having a seer for a brother, especially one that liked to annoy people with the visions he had. 

There weren't many of them, but they did exist. 

Now ready, Mizael turned to face Vector. “Do you still want to come with me on Jinlong?” 

What in the world had he said that made Vector's face twitch like that? 

Vector coughed, clearing his throat, and nodded. “Of course. Durbe's magic is clever and you're quite the warrior, and your dragon is magnificent, but I still would feel better if I were there with you.” 

Mizael sniffed, exchanging a quick glance with Jinlong. Both of them knew at least something of what was going through Vector's mind with that. “All right. But you'll have to hold on tightly. Jinlong can go fast.” 

“Of course.” Vector agreed without argument, which only made Mizael roll his eyes a bit. He swung onto Jinlong's back and took a careful grip there, steadying himself with decades of practice. Vector joined him, arms sliding around him and locking around one another. “Is this too tight?” 

“Not at all.” And so long as Vector kept his hands there, everything would be fine. Mizael wasn't averse to discussing the possibility of certain things in the future, but right now was really not the time. 

With a tug and a breath of wind brushing through Mizael's hair, Jinlong took to the skies. Durbe and Mach joined them a few moments later, with Ryouga seated behind the knight-mage, arms wrapped around his waist. Mizael nodded, glancing down to see the others gathered together and ready to follow. 

* * *

The trip back to the city didn't take nearly as long as the trip out here had, mostly because they knew the way this time, and they didn't have to watch quite as hard for traps, with their enemies having been defeated. That was just as well; none of them were in the mood to keep quite that much of a guard up. There was only so often that one could keep on the razor's edge of alert. 

Mizael managed to stay awoke, despite how tired he was, because of three factors: he had their enemies in his pouch and he never let himself rest while there were enemies _that_ close; there was a brisk wind this high up and it kept his mind clear to an extent; and Vector's arms remained firmly around his waist. He very seldom relaxed when there was _anyone_ that close, all truth to be told. 

Vector found that he liked being this high up, at least with Mizael there. He could smell the clean scent of the other's hair -or perhaps not so clean, as Mizael hadn't had a chance to properly wash it during their trip, but the aroma pleased him anyway – and he liked the feeling of Mizael's warm body against him. 

Jinlong rumbled softly underneath them and Vector hurriedly turned his thoughts into a more platonic direction. He didn't know if the dragon could read minds or not, but this high up wasn't the time to find out he could, much less that he disapproved of what Vector was thinking. 

No one felt a huge need to talk as the distance vanished beneath them. There was only weariness, a rising hunger, and the desire to finish this completely. 

Finally the Scarlet City appeared on the horizon and while there were no huge sighs of relief, everyone looked forward to whatever welcome that awaited them. Moment by moment the city grew closer. Mizael and Durbe slowed their respective partners' flights, waiting for the ones below to catch up. 

Guards stood in their usual position outside the city gates, and as the group approached, each of them rose to a defensive wariness, staring at the dragon. Vector rose to his feet, balancing easily, then somersaulted off to land in front of them, grinning at himself. 

“We're returning with the Fallguys that Don Thousand wished apprehended,” he declared, gesturing for Mizael to present the prized captives. The guards stared, then nodded briskly. They were used to strange events such as this. No guards who couldn't adjust fast were allowed. 

“His Majesty awaits you, then,” one of them said. He looked as if he were about to say something else, but Vector shook his head a tiny fraction. Some information didn't need to be revealed. 

“Let's go!” He waved everyone else inside. Jinlong and Mach would have to find other accommodations, but he guessed they were used to that. And he certainly didn't object to Jinlong being gone for a while. 

It was _so_ hard to romance someone while worrying about being eaten. 

**To Be Continued**


	20. Birth of the Barians

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Series:** Order of the Outcasts #1  
 **Title:** Origins: Chapter 20: Birth of the Barians  
 **Characters:** Nasch, Merag, Durbe, Mizael, Gilag, Alit, Vector, Don Thousand  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 2,537||story: 52,389  
 **Genre:** Fantasy, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation.  
 **Summary:** A bard. A priestess. A mage. A druid. A gladiator. A ranger. A man of mystery. A quest to find a stolen item brings them all together. And thus a legend begins. 

* * *

“Excellent work,” Don Thousand praised the seven of them, holding Kuragari's treasure by the chain it hung from. “I'll have this returned to the King and Queen at once.” He set it down into the box Vector held out to him and turned his gaze onto them thoughtfully. “You've done even better than I anticipated.” 

Ryouga shrugged. “It's what you hired us to do. That's all.” 

The king's lips curved upward. “And yet you did it so well.” Again he regarded them, clearly with something in mind. “I have other tasks that could use the skills you all possess.” 

Each of them fidgeted to some degree. Ryouga was the one who spoke, though. “I thought this was a one-time job.” 

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Don Thousand shrugged, his every movement as elegant and refined as could be. Stories said that his family line held elven blood in it, contributing to their spectacular good looks. Ryouga didn't know if that were true, nor was he especially interested in the king's looks, but as a bard, he did appreciate the elegance of it. 

Alit shifted forward. “You said I might be able to...” His gaze flicked to the others, then back to Don Thousand. “What about those rewards you promised us?” 

“Of course. It might take some time to gather them all, I'm afraid,” Don Thousand replied, waving one hand casually. “In the meantime, you could occupy yourselves with some of these tasks I need taken care of.” 

Alit's hands clenched at once. If it weren't for Gilag's hand resting on his shoulder, he might've said something out of line. Instead, he turned away a little. “Let me guess, there are going to be a lot of these 'jobs', aren't there?” 

“I do have much that needs doing and that you could help with,” the king admitted. “But rest assured, I will do everything within my power to see to it that you're well taken care of while you work for me, and that you will be given the rewards I promised.” 

Mizael folded his arms over his chest and gave the king a stern look. Royalty held little sway over the freeborn Ranger. “Ending those who poisoned Jinlong and the forest I take care is all the reward that I need or want. Or was promised. What other reason do I have to stay here?” 

Don Thousand's gaze moved for a moment toward Vector, then back to Mizael. “I'm aware that you have few needs that wealth could meet, Ranger, but wouldn't it be useful in acquiring items and information to continue the protection of your lands? My informants tell me that those three were but part of a larger web that could bring damage to many more places if left unchecked as well.” 

The blond hissed softly from between his teeth but said nothing more. There were few things that could sway him more than the thought of putting a stop to those who caused harm to others, especially when those others were of the forest persuasion. 

Don Thousand glanced one by one at the others. “All of you have causes and goals that you wish to pursue. I can help you with them all of them, but in return, you will need to perform these tasks for me.” 

“Just how long will all of these take?” Durbe asked cautiously. 

“That depends on all of you. It could take quite some time. But you're always free to depart at any time.” 

None of them would call Don Thousand's smile 'creepy', but it certainly skirted the edges of that. Rio spoke up. 

“We'll have to think about it.” 

“I would expect nothing else,” the king said, gesturing them away with one wave of his hand. “You will be shown to your rooms. Do feel free to take your time.” 

One by one the group left the room, encountering servants outside who seemed to already know what was needed. 

Only Mizael noticed that Vector hadn't emerged with him. He glanced back at the receiving room, his steps slowing a trifle before he turned away and hurried along after the servant who guided him to his room. 

* * *

“And what do you think of them?” Don Thousand lounged backward, far more dangerous and deadly than few others saw him in this private moment. 

Vector toyed with his knife, trimming his nails as he did. “Most of them are really annoying.” A smile sliced across his features. “The ranger is pretty, though.” 

Don Thousand only failed to roll his eyes because he was a king and kings did not roll their eyes. “Another toy, Vector?” 

“I haven't had one in a long time. There's a lot to like about this one. I could keep him for a long time.” Vector giggled, a sound not that many had heard and lived to keep talking about. “They noticed. And I think they don't like it.” 

“Of course not.” Don Thousand leaned forward. “Now, what I said about keeping all of you together is true. That includes you.” 

Vector dropped his giggling in a heartbeat. “ Of course it is. You still want the Key, don't you?” 

“That I do, and the one bound do it.” Don Thousand's eyes glimmered with an unholy fire to possess. “But they still need to become stronger to be able to bring it to me.” 

“Of course,” Vector said. He understood how Don Thousand thought better than most people ever would imagine. “I'll agree to it.” This gave him a chance to get closer to Mizael anyway. 

“I expected nothing less from you, my dear son.” Don Thousand smiled. Vector's smile echoed his in every way. 

“I know you didn't, father.” 

* * *

Rio and Ryouga didn't share a room, but only moments passed before he knocked on her door and she let him in. Before the door closed, he was already talking. 

“He's up to something.” 

“Which one? Vector or Don Thousand?” Rio had expected her twin to turn up, but she did wish he'd given her more time to rest. She knew how he thought and followed long as best that she could when she really wanted to get some sleep. 

Ryouga's lips moved into something that wasn't even close to a smile, but looked like it was trying to pretend to be one. “Both of them.” He took a few paces back and forth. “I don't think we should leave, though. Not yet.” 

She didn't say anything, but waited for him to continue with whatever he had in mind. 

“We can't go home until we can afford a better army, and a way to deal with _him_.” Ryouga's eyes sparked fire. “And if we can get that by staying here, then I think we should.” 

That didn't surprise the young priestess at all. They would need so much more than they had in order to get what was theirs back. And she wanted to go home, she wanted it so much that it hurt in every part of her just to think about. Being in this castle brought back a shimmering wash of memories. So much like home and yet _not_ home. 

“Then we stay, at least until we have enough funds and warriors to stage a coup,” Rio said. Ryouga nodded. She knew he'd want to talk it over with Durbe, but that would be no problem. The two of them seldom disagreed on much, and they'd always planned for what they needed. This was just a method to get it. 

“We stay.” 

* * *

“Vector lusts after you.” Jinlong stated what Mizael already knew. “I could smell it very clearly on him.” 

Mizael ran a brush through his long hair, only glancing toward his shapechanged companion for a moment. “I know.” It had been hard to miss. Vector certainly hadn't been trying to hide it. 

A smile slipped over Jinlong's features, one that would've had him showing most of his teeth if he were in his dragon form. “But he fears me as well.” 

“Good.” This was hardly the first time in his life that someone wished to approach him. Jinlong didn't exactly decree who Mizael could and couldn't sleep with, but those who didn't find the dragon intimidating on some level were to be carefully watched. 

Jinlong worked his way over to one of the seats nearer to Mizael and watched his companion. “So the king here wishes you all to remain together?” 

“He has a point on wealth being useful to protect the forest,” Mizael said. It wasn't one he especially liked, but he could at least admit the truth of it. “And if there are others who wish to poison the forests, then I need to stop them.” 

Jinlong made a somewhat noncommital sound. “If that's what you want to do.” 

“I could have worse companions for doing it,” Mizael observed, working harder at one of the knots in his hair. “The twins and Durbe are tolerable, at least. And I think Gilag appreciates the forest almost as much as I do.” 

“A druid is not quite like a ranger, though,” Jinlong said. “It won't be the same.” 

“So?” Mizael didn't care about that. “And I've seen worse suitors than Vector as well.” Not that he'd made up his mind about accepting the other's offers as of yet. Nor had Vector made a proper offer. 

Jinlong grumbled at that. “I have.” He shook his head. “So you intend to stay?” 

“For now.” Mizael finally worked the last knot out of his hair and stood up. “I still owe Rio, Ryouga, and Durbe for what happened with you as well.” 

Jinlong stood, moving closer to Mizael. “It's your decision.” 

Mizael knew well that whatever choice he made, Jinlong would be there to stand with him. Or fly with him, as the case might be. He'd never known a truer friend. 

Though perhaps he might be getting to. 

* * *

Durbe knew well what thoughts were going through Ryouga's mind. They were the same ones that went through his. They had a goal to reach and working for Don Thousand offered a way to accomplish it. It would be a much more successful method than taking random jobs that might or might not provide the money they needed. 

And perhaps Don Thousand's informants could give them more of a lead to follow for the mysterious man who'd caused their problems in the first place. A face would be nice, something to go with the only name that they knew: Shingetsu Rei. 

* * *

“So, we're staying?” 

Alit slammed his fist against the rock wall. He hadn't even needed to think about this a lot. Beating his fists like this just gave him something to do with his hands. Not to mention he was also more than a little furious about not getting the reward he wanted. 

“Sure are. Until he can tell me what I need to know.” Gilag knew what he needed. No one else did, and Alit wasn't going to tell any of them. Not unless and until he got to know them a lot better than he did now. 

Gilag nodded. He had no major reasons to live; Ponta could teach him anything new that he needed to know here just as well as he could anywhere else, and he knew there were several stretches of forest in the area where he could relax if he needed to. 

He wanted to talk to Mizael and Rio as well, to see how their methods resembled his, and what else they could do together. A ranger, a druid, and a priestess? He could only imagine what their magic might do when they combined it. 

* * *

Once again the group stood before Don Thousand, who merely raised one eyebrow toward them, wanting to know their decision. 

“We're going to stay,” Ryouga said, indicating himself, his sister, and Durbe. “We'll work for you.” 

“As am I,” Mizael agreed, nodding his head. He didn't look at Vector. He suspected a certain smug little smile he already had grown to know would be on his lips. 

Alit shrugged. “I don't have anywhere better to be right now.” _At least not that I can be._

“This place is as good as any other,” Gilag agreed. Only one remained uncommitted. 

Vector smiled. It looked as if he'd been practicing. “You don't think I'm going to leave all of you this soon, do you?” 

“Not before you get laid, that's for sure,” Alit muttered. Vector gave him a look that spoke eloquently of death. Alit paid him no mind at all. 

Don Thousand cleared his throat. “Very well, then. You'll have quarters here whenever you are resting in between missions, and I will have my healers tend to any injuries or illnesses you must deal with. Recover your strength, then I will inform you of the next mission I have.” 

Again they departed the audience chamber, but this time in more of a group, including Vector. 

“So now we're a team,” he said, grinning at the thought. “We should have a name, then.” 

Almost all of them rolled their eyes at that. Alit shook his head. “What is with you?” 

“What? Teams have names. It's how they get known. Right, Ryouga?” Vector stared at the bard, who reluctantly nodded. 

“He has a point there.” Ryouga really did not look as if this thought pleased him in any kind of a way. 

Gilag turned the idea ovoer in his mind. “The Seven Strangers?” Most of them had been strangers when they'd arrived here, after all. 

Vector scrunched up his nose. “No.” He didn't bother giving a reason. None of them argued over it. 

Names were tossed out and discarded quickly, until finally Durbe said, “Why not the Seven Barians?” 

_Barian._ An old word, seldom used, but one he knew. Alit looked a little confused, however. 

“What's that mean?” 

“It means 'outcast',” Durbe replied, glancing at them all. “And in one form or another...that is what we are.” 

Silence fell between the seven. Vector nodded slowly and reluctantly. “It does.” 

“The Seven Barians,” Ryouga said, tasting the words carefully before he nodded. “I think it's us.” It felt more right than he could begin to explain. 

Mischief lit Vector's eyes suddenly. “Are you sure it shouldn't be the Seven Barian _Lords_? Why should we just be Barians? Why not _Emperors_? The Emperors of the outcasts?” 

Mizael reached over and smacked the back of Vector's head. “Quiet down.” He refused to comment on Vector's chances if he didn't. The threat was more than clear enough in his voice. 

Durbe glanced at Mizael, a soft smile on his lips. He still held no deep trust toward Vector, but perhaps Mizael could keep him in line. 

“What will our next assignment be, I wonder?” he mused out loud, willing to let all of that slide in anticipation of the future. 

“I think he has something in mind concerning some issues with dark mages in another part of the kingdom,” Vector said. “But I can't say for certain.” 

No one who looked at him believed that entirely. There was much Vector hadn't told them. 

And much, much more that they all knew they had to learn about each other, as the future unfolded before them. 

**THE END**

**Note:** So, this is how they all formed an adventuring team together. There will be one short chaptered piece (somewhere between twelve thousand and sixteen thousand words) to expand on Mizael and Vector and then the major story of this world will begin. We do not know when that major story, or even the short chaptered piece, will be written, but watch out and it will turn up!


End file.
